


Until Next We Meet

by MollyOCallaghan



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: (Ish) - Freeform, AU, Alternate Universe, CS AU, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Modern AU, One Shot, Slow Burn, Warning: Neal is villainized, young!Emma, young!Killian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 16:04:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14288508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MollyOCallaghan/pseuds/MollyOCallaghan
Summary: Does time really matter when you truly love someone? Killian Jones and Emma Swan meet when they're just kids, but in time come to realize the strong feelings they have for one another. 26 years, many obstacles and all odds against them doesn't stop them from finding their happy ending.





	Until Next We Meet

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So, I wanted to clear up a few things before anyone reads.  
> 1\. I struggled a lot with whether to go ahead with some of the content in this story. I don't like to even mention the two of them sleeping together unless I feel it moves the story foward. I decided that it did, but there's almost no detail and I just wanted to make it clear that I am not and will never be a smut writer.  
> 2.There is short mentions of alchoholism and (sort of) suicide. They're both very brief and not romantaccized at all but I just wanted to warn anyone that that may trigger  
> 3.Part of this story talks about the military. I want to make it 100% clear that I know NOTHING about the US Military. I didn't do much research on the subject & took total creative liberty during that part of the story. Don't take any of the things said as facts, I'm just a fangirl not an expert;)  
> All of those things aside, I hope whoever might read this enjoys! <3  
> Xx

 

_May 25 th, 2018_

 

Killian Jones slowly pushed aside the curtain just enough to peer out at the old, grey house that was long ago abandoned. A thing which was evident by the peeling paint and overgrown grass. However, today it was not abandoned.

 

 The woman’s back was to him, but he wondered if it was possible that it was her. If, after all these years, his old flame had returned.

 

Before he could think to hide himself behind the curtain once more, she was turning to look at him, their eyes locking instantaneously. He would recognize those striking green orbs from miles away.

 

Not sure what else to do, he let the curtain fall back over the window.

 

Breathless, he sunk to the floor.

 

Emma Swan was officially back in his life.

 

_June 8 th, 1993… 25 years prior_

_+++_

 

Killian ignored his father’s calls from outside his bedroom door, fully immersed in his Gameboy. As many 10- year- old boys, he spent the majority of his life with his eyes fixed on the tiny game console, any spare time he may have being dedicated to eating and sleeping. So, naturally, when his father admonished him to “clean his dishes” or “finish his homework”, he easily and happily ignored him.

 

“Killian, I’m going to give you ten seconds to come out of your hideout and help your brother do the dishes or it’s a week without your Gameboy. Do you understand me, son?”

 

Killian rolled his eyes. Being a single father, Brennan Jones rarely followed through on threats. Most of the time he wasn’t around at all. Either lost in the bottle or off with some unknown woman.

 

A lot of the time it was just him and Liam against the world. A burden no children should be made to bear, but one the Jones brothers could not avoid.

 

“10, 9, 8…” His father began to count, his voice firm and angry.

 

“Why can’t Liam do them on his own?”

 

Brennan didn’t answer, continuing his countdown without a break.

 

“5, 4, 3, 2…”

 

Just before he could get to one, Killian was bursting through the door. Brennan smiled down at him, happy with his victory.

 

“That’s what I thought.”

 

After making a scene going down the steps, Killian reluctantly took his place beside his big brother, who by now was half way done with the dishes already. Even still, he was happy to have the help.

 

He shoved a damp dish rag into Killian’s hands with a smirk.

 

“You’re on drying duty, Killi.”

 

Before he could reply, a loud noise from across the street had them both staring out the window.

 

A moving truck slowly backed out of the neighboring drive way, revealing two women on the other side. Well, one woman, and one girl. It was the girl, however, that truly caught Killian’s interest.

 

She looked to be about his age, with long blonde hair and the gangly figure expected of a preteen girl. The woman she was with had similar coloring, blonde hair and pale skin. Yet there was a difference in features that made both brothers wonder at their relation.

 

For a brief moment in time, Killian forgot anyone else existed in the world. It was just her, that blonde haired mystery across the street.

 

For most of his life he’d been a firm believer in cooties, and was positive every member of the female species was infected with them. But now, now he had this strange, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to look away from her, to make the foreign thoughts filling his head disappear but no matter how hard he struggled, something was forcing him to keep staring.

 

It wasn’t until Liam smacked him upside the head that he was able to break free of whatever awful spell he’d been under.  
“Oy, half pint, are you going to dry dishes or are you too busy staring at your girlfriend?”

 

A deep blush colored Killian’s roundy cheeks.

 

“Shut up, Liam.”

 

Liam seemed to find his little brother’s angered state incredibly entertaining. Killian, on the other hand, was not amused at all.

 

He watched her the entire time he dried the dishes, until she finally disappeared behind the bright red door of her house.

+++

_July 4th, 1993_

 

 

The small town of Storybrooke, Maine buzzed with excitement and patriotism on the day of the Nation’s birthday. Every storefront, house and person was decked out in red, white and blue.

 

Killian had come to realize in the short time he’d been in the States that no country took its national pride quite so seriously, and if you weren’t prepared to join in, you may as well not even bother going outside. So, every year since he was 7, Killian simply boarded himself up in his room for the two day-long celebration, until it was finally safe to go outside without being smothered by star-spangled cheer.

 

This year, however, things were just a little different. He was still hidden away in his room, but instead of staring at his Gameboy, he stared at her.

 

He’d come to learn that her name was Emma Swan. She was just a little younger than him, but in his same grade and would be in his class come Fall. Not that he cared… it was just something he overheard her mother saying to his dad.

 

Her room was almost right across from his and in the day, she always had her curtains opened, so he could see her perfectly as she too played her Gameboy for hours a day. The fact that she played Gameboy gave him a strange sense of comradery with her, even though the most she’d acknowledged his existence was when her mother had forced her to say hello to him the day after they’d moved in. Still, he hadn’t ever seen a girl play video games, and it fascinated him that she did.

 

He was fully invested in a game of _Dr. Mario_ but every so often he’d look up to see if she was still there. She always was.

 

Then, night came. Liam was out pretending to be the all-American boy with his latest dalliance, Brennan was most likely already drunk out of his mind as he always was on holidays, passed out either in a bar or on some woman’s couch. It was just him in the house, the feeling of loneliness rearing its ugly head once again. He looked up once more to see if Emma was still in her window, but this time all he saw was an empty space.

 

 A bang followed by bright, beautiful colors in the sky momentarily distracted Killian from his Gameboy. He watched with his chin in his hand as the vibrant blues and reds burst then slowly fade away.

 

Fireworks were one part of the holiday he actually enjoyed. There was just something about that sight that made him forget all his troubles, as silly as it sounded.  He just felt that if something as destructive as fire could be made into something so beautiful… maybe something good could come out of all the pain he’d experienced too.

 

A loud rap on the door broke him from his thoughts.

 

The person who stood before him when he opened his front door was the last one on the planet he would’ve expected to see.

 

Emma tucked her hair behind her ears nervously.

 

She had such beautiful hair Killian thought, but he quickly pushed such notions away. She was a girl and therefore, she was nasty.

 

He cleared his throat and slouched against the door frame. In his mind, it made him seem cool and uncaring. To Emma, it made him look awkward. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him, right?

 

What would he say? What _could_ he say? He’d never cared so much what a girl thought of him in his life.

 

He finally decided on a flat, “Can I help you?” Which he immediately regretted when her features fell.

 

Deep lines etched into her brow, a look of utter disgust twisting her usually kind features.

 

“I guess not. Sorry I bothered you.”

 

She started to walk away but he grabbed her arm, desperate to keep her there.

 

“Wait, no I uh… I really want to know if you need something,” Like always when Killian felt nervous, his hand went to scratch behind his ear, “I’m not good at this.”

 

“Good at what exactly?”

 

Yet again, he was blushing. That kept happening lately.

 

 “I don’t know, does it matter?”

 

She just shrugged in that way that many children do when they come upon a question they’re not experienced enough to know the answer to.

 

“I just came over here to ask if you maybe wanted to watch the fireworks with me… or whatever. It doesn’t really matter.”

 

Most kids were far too young and innocent to have a true fear of rejection. Emma, on the other hand, had been through so many disappointments in her short life that she knew full well how painful it was to be turned away. Even if it was just by a ten-year-old boy. So, she learned how to hide her feelings. A skill she was exercising well as she waited for Killian’s reply.

 

Of course, Killian was fully aware of this technique. Though different, both children had been through hardships that made them act far older than they actually were. While most would interpret Emma’s cool, steely expression as uncaring, Killian knew she must have been horribly nervous on the inside.

 

It would be social suicide if he was caught with a girl, especially a _9- year-old_ girl. He was double digits after all, clearly far too mature for someone so young and inexperienced. But, somehow, he just couldn’t bring himself to say no to her.

 

“Ok,” He stepped out, letting the door slam behind him, “But only if we do this my way.”   

 

Killian hoisted himself onto the small wooden platform sitting between the tree branches. He offered his hand to Emma, but she refused it, lifting herself the rest of the way onto the plank.

 

This simple “tree house” was Killian’s favorite spot in the world. His father had promised a million times to finish it, but it still remained nothing more than a few wooden planks in a tree. Even still, the memories behind it were fond, and it made him feel at peace to sit up there.

 

He’d never told a soul about it until now. At first, he was wary of revealing his hide out to this stranger, but then Emma took her seat beside him. Her tiny, frail hand brushed his for just a second. It went by in such a flash you’d hardly know it happened, but the warm, fuzzy feeling it gave him stuck. And he knew if he could redo the whole thing he’d bring her here again just for the chance to feel that way again. Not that he knew exactly what the feeling was because, well, he was ten.

 

They sat in silence for a long while, watching the fireworks in awe. If he was older, and braver, he would have told her that she looked beautiful with the light reflecting on her features.

 

“This is really cool.” Emma whispered.

 

The words brought the biggest smile to Killian’s face. He didn’t really know why, but somehow the fact that he was able to impress her gave him a great sense of accomplishment.

 

“It’s my favorite spot in town... It’s nice, y’know? Getting to hide away from everyone sometimes.”

 

“Well now you won’t be able to hide from me,” She teased, still looking away from him, “Kind of a dumb move, Jones.”

 

The two children shared a laugh. A rare occurrence for both of them.

 

“That’s alright. I’m not so sure I want to hide from you anyways.”

 

One beat, then two passed. Emma looked as though she was itching to say something, but still no one spoke a word. If it weren’t for the boom of the fireworks and the loud cheers of the town, the silence may have been uncomfortable. Still, Killian desperately wanted it to end.

 

“Have you finished moving in yet?”

 

“Is 4th of July this big a deal every year?”

 

They spoke at the exact same time, their words overlapping and turning into a jumble of nonsense that had both giggling.

 

Emma’s only reply to his question was a nod. Her question… well, that was more complicated.

 

He thought over the three years he’d been in this country. The first year had been the worst. No one really realized the culture shock it was for a young boy to have to go from a small, European country to the big and busy America. Everything felt vastly different. Even though he spoke English, he still had a hard time understanding what anyone was saying half the time. None of their lingo was the same, and if he slipped up and used any of the slang he’d grown accustomed to in his native country, people would look at him like he was insane. Of course, eventually he grew used to the jargon and such of his American peers. He didn’t like it, but he understood it.

 

The second year grew easier, and this year held promise. But her question was not if he could tolerate it, it was if the town was always _this_ ridiculous, so he answered her honestly.

 

“Unfortunately, yes. Storybrooke is more in love with America than uncle Sam himself.”

 

Emma narrowed her eyes and stared at him with an intensity that made his hair stand up on his skin. She was reading him, and he didn’t like it.

 

“You don’t like it here very much, do you?”

 

“It’s no London, but it’s alright…”   Now it was his turn to read her. “What about you, do you like it here?”

 

Her face fell. He watched as her head dropped, her eyes filling with a kind of sadness no girl her age should know.

 

“It’s better than a group home.”

 

_Oh._

 

There was a million excuses he could have made. “I’m sorry”, “I didn’t know”, “I didn’t mean to upset you”.

 

He didn’t say any of those things.

 

“Well, I’m glad you’re here.”

 

Finally, their eyes met. No words were spoken, they didn’t need to be. For this one, sweet moment, Killian Jones and Emma Swan felt something neither had before. Not love, because they wouldn’t know how to love even if they wanted to… but the two of them felt something almost better. They felt accepted.

 

Emma’s hand scooted over the few centimeters it took to reach Killian’s.

 

His heart was beating a million miles an hour. All he could do was hope he was doing all this right, this whole girl thing.

 

Liam would have a field day if he ever found out about this, but Killian didn’t really care.

 

Cautiously, he laced his fingers with hers. Emma looked shocked at first, and he feared she might pull away. He’d despise himself if he scared her away. But in the end, she simply smiled and turned away from him, allowing her hand to stay in his.

 

That’s when Killian knew. He officially had his first crush. What he didn’t know was that it was gonna turn out to be a whole lot more complicated than two kids holding hands in a treehouse.

  +++

 

The rest of that summer was the happiest time in both Killian’s and Emma’s lives. An instant friendship was struck after that night in his treehouse. They spent every day, hour, minute, and _second_ with each other.

 

_ July 17th, 1993 _

 

Emma laughed as Killian pulled her along, the lake fast approaching.

 

“Killian, I will kill you if you throw me in that water, I mean it!”

 

He smirked. A sneaky, scheming little smirk.

 

“I would never do such a thing to you, Swan.”

 

He’d taken to calling her that. It wasn’t officially her last name yet, but Emma already proudly claimed it. He thought it was incredibly fitting for her. A swan, strong, commanding, beautiful. Exactly like his Emma.

 

Yes, she was _his_ Emma now. He would never say such things aloud, though.

 

The two kids finally reached the lake, their toes at the edge of the water, one breeze enough to have them both tumbling in.

 

He had all the power to push her in right now. All it would take was one little shove…

 

Emma turned to him, her tiny finger pointed sternly at his face, “Don’t even think about it.”

 

An evil smile spread across his face.

 

In one fowl swoop, he had pushed her into the water. What he didn’t account for was that her hand was wrapped around his wrist, and so as she fell, so did he.

 

The two of them let out a simultaneous yelp, landing in the water with a splash.

 

When Killian finally surfaced, he was met with two fiery, green eyes. Uh oh.

 

There wasn’t even time to take a breath before she was dunking him back under the water.

 

“Oy, have mercy on a man, will you?” He pleaded jokingly, wiping the droplets of water from his eyes.

 

Emma shrugged, smiling smugly, “Sure. Lucky for me, you’re not a man.” 

 

Then it was her turn to be dunked.

 

_ August 1st, 1993 _

 

The stars littered the sky above them as Emma and Killian laid on the damp summer grass. It had been a long day of play, and the two of them were too exhausted to even move

 

Killian pointed up at a constellation. In his eyes, in formed a perfect swan. He could see its wings, head and body as clear as if there was an actual bird in front of him.

 

Emma saw a big bunch of stars in the form of… well, a big bunch of stars.

 

“How can you not see that, Swan? It’s so clear!”

 

“It just looks like a big mess of tiny lights to me. I’m sorry I’m not a smarty pants like you.” Emma nudged him and stuck her tongue out.

 

Smarty pants had become his nickname as he was constantly talking in a way Emma called “fancy English talk”. He couldn’t help it that they spoke in fully formed sentences in England and didn’t use words like “dude” or “bro”.

 

“Here,” He sighed, “Let me help you see it.”

 

His hand wrapped around hers, guiding it until it was pointing directly at Cygnus the swan.

 

“You see that, right there?”  Emma hummed to show that she did, “Those are the wings, then if you look just a little lower there’s the body.”

 

“Ohh, I see it now!”

 

“Finally!”

 

A celebratory high five was shared. In other circumstances, it may have been a hug, or even a kiss. But for now, Killian was happy with the high five.

 

“Why are you so into constellations anyway?”

 

“Well, my dad used to be in the navy before Liam and I were born, and they had to use the stars as a map…”

 

Emma looked unsure, as if using the stars as a map was the craziest thing she’d ever heard.

 

“It sounds weird, but it works. Anyways, when we were little, dad used to take us out on the lawn and teach us the constellations for hours and hours. So, I guess… I guess it just makes me happy to read the constellations now, because it reminds me of that.” 

 

Killian found himself wrapped in Emma’s arms. Her head laid on his shoulder, golden hair sprawled out wildly.

 

“That sounds nice.”

 

Slowly, his eyes fell shut. He hadn’t felt so safe in a long time.

 

“Yeah… it was.”

 

They stayed cuddled up on the lawn until Liam and Ingrid came to carry them to bed.

 

_ August 31st, 1993 _

 

It was the last day of summer vacation. It had been the best summer Killian had known since coming to the states and now it was just _over._ Never had he laughed so much, had so much fun, or cared for someone as he cared for Emma Swan.

 

He didn’t let it show, but deep down he was scared. Terrified that once the summer was gone, their friendship would leave with it. It’s easy to be best friends when you can spend every second together, when the pressure to fit in at school is taken out of the equation. That’s why he held on especially tight to her hand on this hot august afternoon. He could feel his palm getting sweatier and sweatier, but not a thing in the world was gonna pull his hand out of hers.

 

It was strange. Neither of them had said more than two words to the other since the day before. They played their Gameboys, twiddled their thumbs, snacked and more but hadn’t spoken for even a second. Anything to avoid the reality they were about to face. It was an awfully adult ritual, not saying anything for fear of saying something wrong. Unfortunately, both were more mature than they should have been.

 

The door swung open and Liam joined them in the backyard. Normally, his brother’s presence would have Killian running as far as he could in the opposite direction of Emma. Today, he didn’t care. His hand still held hers even when his brother came to sit beside him.

 

“Are you two lovebirds ready for the big bad 5th grade tomorrow?”

 

Emma’s face turned beet red. Ever since she and Killian had been hanging out, Liam had repeatedly referred to them as “love birds” “boyfriend, girlfriend” and “couple”, things which no little kids want to hear, and the very reason boys and girls tended to avoid each other at that age.

 

Big brothers could be such a pain sometimes.

 

“No. I hate school.” Killian huffed.

 

The teen rolled his eyes at the young boy’s dramatic reply. Truth be told, Liam loved Killian more than anything in the world, and vice versa, but the façade that they kept up was two brothers who couldn’t stand each other. It was only natural, after all.

 

Liam ruffled his little brother’s hair, laughing as he squirmed in irritation.

 

“Just wait till you get to high school and don’t have nap time anymore, little brother.”

 

“We don’t have nap time in the 5th grade, you wazzock.”

 

Liam just chuckled. He always did that. Made Killian angry, then laughed at him as he fought back, therefore making him _more_ angry.

 

“What about you, Emma? Are you excited to be going to a new school?”

 

What a stupid question that was. Ingrid had had to fight the school to even let Emma in with her previous record. Expulsions, suspensions, drop outs. And all at the age of 9. It was a glorious representation of just what the foster system produced. After a fight, though, they finally agreed to let her in. But she was behind… very behind. So no, she wasn’t exactly thrilled to be going back to school, much less a brand new one, with brand new bullies.

 

She didn’t say that, though. Afraid she might scare them off if she revealed her true self completely. That’s how it always seemed to go.

 

“I guess.” Was her only reply.

 

The three of them sat there for a long while. Liam teased, Killian retorted and Emma sat there quietly. It was a far cry from the usual fun they had together. Nothing felt the same with the dark cloud of school hanging over their heads like it was. Yet, no one could bring themselves to leave.

 

Liam, too, had taken a strong liking to Emma. Not in the same way as Killian, of course. He was 16, she was 9, there wasn’t much for them to have in common. He was, however, happy to see his little brother find a friend who truly cared about him.

 

Eventually, the sun went down. Killian wanted to cry as he watched the last rays of light disappear. His hand was still grasping onto Emma’s, but now he couldn’t hold on any longer.

 

It didn’t take long for Ingrid to come out and call for Emma.

 

“I guess I have to go to bed…” Emma’s eyes fell to the ground, her long, blonde lashes fluttering over her cheeks.

 

“Killian ought to be doing the same.” Liam chastised from behind them.

 

“Shut up, Liam,” Reluctantly, he let go of her hand. For some weird reason, he felt like he’d never get to hold it again. A thought that made him sick to his stomach. “See you tomorrow, Swan?”

 

She was halfway over to her house already, but he didn’t miss what she said.

 

“See you tomorrow, smarty pants.”

 

_ September 1st, 1993 _

 

The sticky summer air made it feel wrong to be going to school. He should be with Emma, swimming or playing or doing _something_ other than walking to his imminent doom.

 

Originally, he’d planned to ask Emma f she wanted to walk with him, but he dropped that idea when he saw her climb into Ingrid’s vw bug.

 

He told himself it didn’t matter. He’d see her at school in just a few minutes, anyway, right?

 

Storybrooke elementary was a quaint, hometown school. There was barely 100 students all together, and the teachers were straight out of a fairytale book. Kind, patient and fully clad in pastel cashmere at all times. It was, by all appearances, a dream school. To Killian, it was better described as a living hell.

 

The last school year was the first one he’d actually been able to make friends, and even then he didn’t really care for them. They were mean and merciless, but it didn’t take long to realize that he’d rather join in than be the subject of their torture.

 

He was lucky enough not to see them all summer, as they were all either on vacation or at camp. But now, here they were again, standing just a few yards from him.

 

A deep sigh escaped him as he made his way into the crowd of children.

 

“Killian!” James Nolan pushed past several kids to make his way over to Killian, August Booth following behind him like a lost puppy dog.

 

James was older and cooler than everyone in school. The only reason he was still in the same grade as them was because he refused to actually do any of his work, and had to repeat grades multiple times. Everyone wanted to befriend him, and those that didn’t feared him.

 

August, on the other hand, was just another sheep in the flock. Killian imagined he must have been in his position at one point, and just got stuck there. He was older too, but not by much, and when he wasn’t with James he was about as intimidating as a flower. Like everyone else, he didn’t dare speak unless spoken to. A silent henchman to the devious James.

 

Instantly, the façade went up. Steely, unfeeling. The exact opposite of who he really was.

 

“Hey, James. August.”

 

Even at 12, the boy looked absolutely evil. His icy blue eyes always held a mischievous sparkle, his blonde hair falling in them and making him look especially dangerous.

 

He threw his arm around Killian’s shoulders, “There’s fresh meat this year, Jones. You know what that means?”

 

Yes, he did know what that meant, and he dreaded it like the plague.

 

Every year, if you wanted to stay in James Nolan’s ‘good graces’, you had to prove yourself. Sometimes that meant pranking a teacher, or actively disobeying one of the Storybrooke elementary guidelines. Last year, Killian had gotten himself suspended for a week for gluing all of Ms. French’s possessions to her desk. But he knew that wasn’t gonna be enough this time. If he wanted to keep his safe spot on this messed chain of power, he’d have to do much more than waste a whole bottle of elmer’s school glue.

 

His stomach twisted into knots at the thought of being cruel to any one of his classmates, but the façade had to stay in place. There would be no chance of surviving the school year if James caught even a whiff of weakness.

 

“Who’s the target?”

 

“Goldie locks over there.”

 

His smile quickly fell when he spotted the girl James’ finger was pointing to.

 

Emma.

 

“I don’t know, James. She’s the new girl, that’s too easy-“

 

“The newbies are the fun ones, Jones.”

 

James shoved Killian forward until he reluctantly began walking towards Emma. She looked so scared, so lost. He couldn’t imagine how awful all this must be for her.

 

All he’d do was tease her a little, then he’d tell her what it was all about after school and everything would be fine. Really, it would be ok.

 

Emma’s eyes finally found him, a relieved smile spreading across her face. This was going to be harder than he thought.

 

“Killian, I’m so glad you’re finally here. I have no idea where I’m going.”

 

James and August both glared at him. The heat of their stares was enough to have him melting to the ground.

 

He scratched behind his ear, his nerves completely fried.

 

“Do you know this little orphan girl, Killian?” James stepped in between the two of them, towering over them drastically.

 

His tiny heart shattered at the sight of Emma standing there. Her face was red and she was clearly working hard to hold back tears. He knew how painful this subject was for her.

 

“I-Uh...” he fumbled over his words. It couldn’t be helped, all he could imagine was the year of pure hell James would give him if he told him he and Emma were friends. He’d never live it down, and would it really help anything? After all, if he stayed on James’ good side, he could more easily keep him away from Emma.

 

The words just didn’t want to come out. Something wasn’t letting them.

 

“It’s an easy question, Jones,” If James looked evil before, he looked murderous now. “Do you know her, or _not?_

 

His heart pounded at an abnormal rate in his chest.

 

Maybe if he could have seen her… could have seen the tears glistening in her eyes or the quiver of her lip, his answer would have been different. However, his eyes were fixed on James’ clenched fist and all he could think of was the pain he’d feel if it collided with his face.

 

“No,” Killian stated without emotion, “I have no idea who she is.”

 

Emma’s face made him wish he’d taken the punch instead. It would have certainly been less painful.

 

He tried to pass a silent message to her, that he didn’t mean it, it was just for the protection of them both. All she did was look back at him with a broken expression.

 

The little girl who had been turned away so many times, and now the one person who had accepted her without question had tossed her aside just like the rest.

 

James’ lips curled into a wicked grin.

 

“Good. You don’t want to be associated with trash.”

 

Before Killian had time to stop him, he’d pushed Emma to the ground. The young monster stood over her as she tried to keep from crying, like she was nothing more than a bug he’d just squashed.

 

“Now you’re finally back where you belong, goldie locks. Don’t ever try to claw your way back up again.”

 

With one last scowl, he left her there. She curled into a ball on the ground, her brand new red backpack covered in mud and grass stains.

 

She’d been so excited about that backpack.

 

“You coming, Killian?”

 

He ignored August’s question, simply waving him off as he stared in shock at his Emma’s tiny form lying on the grass.

 

It seemed to satisfy them enough. They were gone in an instant, their cold laughs echoing throughout the school yard even when they were far away.

 

“Emma,” Killian fell to his knees the minute they were gone, “Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

 

Once she was up, Emma wasted no time in shoving him away from her. Her eyes, which usually brightened when she was looking at him, were dark and angry. He’d never seen her look at him this way before.

 

“Don't touch me.”

 

The words hurt him to his core. He felt like a monster. He _was_ a monster.

 

 “I’m sorry, Swan, I… I don’t know what got into me. I never meant for you to get hurt-“

 

She was already walking in the other direction but she turned around at that, staring him right in the eye.

 

“I can deal with bullies, I’ve handled them before alright…”       Her next words would haunt him for the rest of his life, even years later, when he was older and wiser. They were worse than daggers to his heart.     “I guess I was just stupid to think you were any better than them.”

 

And that was the very last time she’d speak to him for a very, _very_ long time.

+++

 _May 30 th, 199_7

 

 

The air was just beginning to feel warm in Maine. It felt refreshing on Killian’s face, having been inside a near windowless building for most of the day.

 

His peers bursted out of the building like flood waters. It was summer, finally, and no one wanted to spend another second in school.

 

Killian was in no rush, though. He’d do the same thing he always did. He walked slowly over to the bench under the tree and began to wait. Almost every day he waited for her before walking home. Most of the time he got no more than a mere glimpse of her, but it was worth it. She was, after all, the only person in this town he actually cared about.

 

It took only a few short minutes for her to come out. He saw her first on the top of the stairs, then watched as she made her way down to the sidewalk. She looked beautiful, she _always_ looked beautiful. Even with her face hidden behind a large pair of glasses, and her golden hair tamed into a tightly bound ponytail, she was a vision.

 

Every day it was the same thing with them. He’d watch, she’d notice but pretend not to, keeping her headphones on and her face in a text book. It didn’t matter to him whether she acknowledged him or not, he felt lucky just to be able to see her every day.

 

Nothing had changed since he was just a ten-year-old with a crush. Well, almost nothing had changed. Some things were bound to be different, it the natural way of life.

 

Her young, round features had matured into something older and more elegant. She was also in that stage of her life where she towered over every boy her age. Long and slender, she looked even taller than she actually was. He’d look ridiculous next to her, if he ever got the chance to _be_ next to her that is.

 

Killian was a pretty typical teenaged boy. Being only 14, he hadn’t quite reached the peak of his growth yet. His hair was usually a mess as it had always been since he was a boy, but it was a good deal darker now. He was awkward, and gangly, nothing quite proportioned right yet, but he had something about him that made it clear he’d be excessively handsome one day. His crystal blue eyes and mass of silky hair got him the occasional look of appreciation from the girls in his class.

 

Like most teenaged boys, he spent 99% of his life thinking about girls. Unlike most teenaged boys, his affection was entirely focused on _one_ girl. The crush of a boy had developed into something more mature as Killian grew older. Emma wasn’t a little girl anymore, nor was he a little boy. Though he tried to ignore it, the more time went by, the more physical attraction began to be added to the equation. He was only human, after all.

 

Still, the thing which always had him gravitating towards her was not what he saw on the outside. They hadn’t spoken two words to each other since the 5th grade, but he knew her. He could see in the way that she lived, in the things that she said, she was still the same kind hearted, brilliant girl she was when she was nine. Only now she had sky high emotional walls and a stronger resolve to keep them up.

 

With time, she’d become more and more hardened to the world around her. She was cautious of everything and everyone, as if any one of them could stab her in the back if she gave them the opportunity.

 

He smiled as she walked by him but didn’t dare to say a word. He’d stopped trying to speak to her a long time ago, knowing it only made things worse. If they were meant to be, she’d come to him on her own.

 

Oh, it was painful for him, though. Having to see her all the time, but never being able to get close. All because a cowardly boy wouldn’t stand up for her.

 

Today, she didn’t have a textbook. It wouldn’t be very convincing to pretend to be immersed in your studies when your studies were done for the year. Instead, she stared at her feet. Never once did her eyes leave them while she walked by, eventually disappearing into the wild crowd of teens.

 

 Yep, summer had changed nothing about their routine.

+++

 

 

 

“Liam, are you home?” Killian called out.

 

The door fell shut on its own, so he proceeded to the kitchen. His brother looked like he’d been living in there for a month, books and snacks and everything in between scattered about the room carelessly.

 

This wasn’t rare, finding him like this. Ever since his brother had started college, his life had been nothing but books, late night shifts and scolding Killian for every little thing he could think of.

 

It was just the two of them now… someone had to step up and be the parent.

 

“Hey, Killi, how was school?”

 

Killian shoved aside a stack of books to sit down and grabbed a bag of sour cream and onion chips.

 

“Boring. But at least it was the last day, which means you’re stuck with me every bloody second for the next three months!” His mouth was full of chips, which made the whole thing just that much more amusing.

 

“Wow, I’m just chuffed beyond belief, little brother.”

 

“ _Younger_ brother.” Killian corrected.

 

He basically said it on autopilot now. Liam didn’t seem to want to accept that he wasn’t so _little_ anymore.

 

Killian’s attention soon left his brother as his eyes drifted towards the house across the street.

 

 _Ugh._ There she was again.

 

She broke out into a fit of giggles at something Ingrid said, and _my_ did she look gorgeous.

 

The sun danced across her features so perfectly, it was like she was a painting. And, if all that wasn’t enough to have his heart racing, she’d let her hair free from her signature ponytail and it fell in a wild waterfall of gold down her shoulders.

 

He wished he could be the one to make her laugh like that, as he had been once before. There were _so_ many wishes he had concerning her, it was almost ridiculous.

 

“Earth to Killian.”

 

A large hand collided with his face, breaking him from the spell he was under. (And leaving a red mark on his cheek, but that wasn’t important.)

 

 “What was that for, you jerk!”

 

“Sorry, I tried getting through to you with words, but you were too deep into Emma vision to hear me.”

 

“I was not into ‘Emma vision’.” Killian huffed, rolling his eyes.

 

It was bad enough that he wasn’t able to speak to her, but Liam made it far worse by constantly berating him about it. He couldn’t catch a break.

 

“Right, right, I forgot. You ‘don’t care about Emma’ and you are most certainly _not_ wildly in love with her. You simply like to stare at her for hours on end for kicks.”

 

It did sound ridiculous when he put it that way. It was so much more complicated than Liam could ever realize, though. It wasn’t just that he liked (Or loved, but what did he know about that?) her and couldn’t be with her, it was that he missed his friend. Even though they were friends for such a short time, at such a young age, it had been the truest friendship he’d ever known. He missed laughing with her, missed being stupid and crazy with her. He just missed _her_.

 

Killian shoved another handful of chips in his mouth. Maybe if he chewed loudly enough, he could drown out Liam.

 

“Look, I’m not going to scold or push you into anything. You’re old enough to make your own decisions now. That being said, you know where I stand,”

 

Another handful of chips.

 

“All I’m trying to do is help you out, Killi. I want you to be happy, and it seems like you’ve been consistently depressed since the 5th grade.”

 

He stopped eating, but only because he ran out of chips. There’s no way Liam was going to leave it at that. He never let go of anything that quickly.

 

“I know you think I’m just your idiot brother babbling on over something I know nothing about,” Liam reached across the table and grasped his hand, his face suddenly serious, “I just… I don’t want you to have any regrets. If you like a girl, don’t let _anything_ stand between you and her.”

 

For once, Liam may have been right.

 

His eyes gravitated towards the window once more, falling on the perfect girl laughing on her porch.

 

Maybe it _was_ time to stop letting things stand between them.

+++

_June 4 th, 1998_

 

Terrifying thoughts pounded in Killian’s head as he sat atop a hill, just a few yards away from where _she_ sat.

 

He tried to calm himself, making doodles of her profile, more to procrastinate than anything. Though, this certainly wasn’t the first time he’d made art inspired by her. School got very boring sometimes…

 

He’d been trying to hype himself up for this for days. There were times when he had gotten so close to doing it, ready to knock on her door and sweep her away like some prince charming. It’s just… something stopped him every time. Maybe it was because he was scared, or maybe it was because he knew deep down he was a far cry from a prince charming.

 

It was all he could think about, morning noon and night. Sleep had become impossible. How could he rest when every time he closed his eyes he saw her face? Her hair cascading down her shoulders, her smile, so warm and genuine, and most of all her eyes. Green and intense, like two beacons of hope for him, yet so painful all at once.

 

It should be easier he thought. They were teenagers, after all. Didn’t most teenagers get to skip the pain and go straight into the movie dates and hand holding?

 

He sighed. What he wouldn’t give to have all that with her, even for just a night.

 

The wind blew suddenly, sweeping all his drawings away with it.

 

“Bloody hell.” He muttered under his breath, making a mad dash for his runaway pages.

 

This is what he got for drawing things he shouldn’t have.

 

“Bloody he)), bloody he))!” He repeated, this time with much more urgency than before. They were flying right towards Emma.

 

It was too late by the time he caught up with them. She was there in front of him, looking down at the drawings with a quizzical stare that had his heart ready to pound straight out of his chest.

 

She must have thought he was a stalker. Oh, he was screwed. _Very_ screwed.

 

Words. He needed desperately for them to come out of his mouth, but they stubbornly refused.

 

The last time he spoke to her was about six months ago, and that had only been to apologize for bumping into her coming out of class. She’d mumbled “it’s fine” then skillfully slipped away into the next room.

 

Now, here she was, still looking at his drawings with a painfully unreadable expression.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to…the wind got hold of them.”

 

Was he speaking English? It was hard to tell through the loud thump of his heart.

 

She was even prettier up close. All the tiny details he usually missed due to distance were now in HD. Like the freckles across her nose and that cute dimple in her chin. His eyes subconsciously drifted to her lips, which were currently settled in a perfect line.

 

Silence fell over them like a large, uncomfortable boulder. Killian was torn between taking the drawings from her and walking away without another word or trying out the whole speaking thing again. It didn’t go so great the first time, but maybe some kind of magical eloquence would overcome him. _Any_ words would be better than this.

 

He started to say something, but she interrupted him.

 

“Did you draw these?”

 

She didn’t ask it because she genuinely didn’t know, but more as a test.

 

It would have been easy- smart, even, to lie. But, well, he said the stupid thing anyway.

 

“Yes.”

 

This was it. Any shred of opportunity he had to have her back in his life again went flying away in the wind faster than those blasted drawings. Or so he thought.

 

For some, strange reason, she was smiling. A small, barely noticeable smile but still, it was there.

 

She shoved the papers back into his hands, “You drew me way too pretty, Jones.”

 

He, too, was smiling now. It was upsetting to him, though. That she really thought she was even a little less beautiful than the way he’d portrayed her. In truth, he felt his drawings didn’t even do her justice.

 

“Not possible, Swan.”

 

It was a bold thing to say, but he didn’t regret saying it. Especially when he saw the pink tinge of her cheeks. She tried to hide it, to turn away, but it didn’t work.

 

He didn’t realize just _how_ much he’d missed that smile of hers until now. Or her voice, or the way she tucked her hair behind her ears when she got anxious. Everything about her was like a sweet memory, only now it was right here before him again.

 

“Just, don’t waste any more of your talent on my face, K?”

 

Again, it was a ridiculous self-deprecation. He just wanted to make her see herself the way he did, to see how amazing she really was. There were just so many things he wanted to tell her, yet he didn’t have the bravery to get any of them out.

 

He felt like that little boy again, who just couldn’t seem to say the right thing at the right time. And with each passing second, he could feel her getting farther and farther away.

 

Before he could get one syllable out, she was slinging her backpack over her shoulder and waving goodbye to him.

 

Say something, say anything! He kept telling himself as he watched her walk away.

 

“Wait,” He was out of breath by the time he ran to her, his voice shaky and insecure, “I know you’re probably,” A breath, “Going to say no… but, will you please, _please_ meet me tonight. At our old spot, up in the oak tree behind my house?”

 

Her expression was once again hard to read. The only thing that gave away her true feelings were her eyes. He could always look into them and see right through whatever mask she was trying to wear. Fear was what he saw in them now, and it did nothing to help his increasing nervousness.

 

“I don’t know…”

 

He didn’t want to push her, but he didn’t want to let this chance slip by either. This was more interaction than they’d had for years, if he didn’t do this now, he never would.

 

“You don’t have to stay for long just… give it a chance?”

 

She took a deep breath. Her mind was made.

 

“Ok.”

+++

 

Summer hadn’t yet staked its claim on Storybrooke’s nighttime, and the air held a biting chill. Killian liked it that way, though. It meant he could bring stacks of blankets to his treehouse. Blankets were romantic, right? It’s not as though he’d had a whole lot of experience with the whole girl thing, but he was almost certain they enjoyed snuggling. He definitely did… in a manly way, of course.

 

He must have looked ridiculous trying to climb a tree with two fluffy blankets thrown over his shoulder. Luckily, he’d been able to avoid Liam in coming out here. He didn’t even want to think about the curious glances and teasing remarks he’d get from his older brother if he were to see him this way.

 

It was a relief when he reached the top and was able to unload his haul. Who knew blankets could be so bloody heavy. At the same time, it was like a weight was being dropped on his heart. All he had left to do now was wait. Wait for her to come, or not to come. It was terrifying.

 

Even the beautiful canopy of twinkling stars did little to squelch his anxiety. He had had a difficult time finding the same peace in star gazing ever since his father had… no, that was too hard. He wasn’t going to think about bad stuff tonight, he was only looking to the future.

 

One minute passed with no sign of Emma, then another… then about ten more. He tried his best to stay optimistic anyway. She’d come, he knew she would.

 

Originally, he’d been reluctant to make use of the blankets. After all, what kind of impression would he make if Emma came up and saw him wrapped up like a marshmallow? He was 14, now. A man. And men didn’t wrap themselves in blankets as if they were still five years old.

 

No matter how much he told himself that, the soft woolen blanket wouldn’t stop taunting him from the corner of his eye. Not even a full minute passed before he was giving in, grabbing the blanket and snuggling down into it until he could barely feel the cool breeze. Screw masculinity. No way was he going to turn into a human popsicle just to appear tough.

 

Once he was inside the warmth, time seemed to pass slower. He watched as every light in the neighborhood switched off, including his and Emma’s. Liam had come out to check on him twice, but he wasn’t budging from his spot atop that treehouse. He’d wait until the sun came up if that’s what it took. Reluctantly, Liam complied. Whether it was out of pity or just not wanting to deal with the dramatic teen’s stubbornness was unclear.

 

It must have been close to midnight when he finally heard the ruffle of branches from below. His heart could barely withstand the excitement when he saw a blonde head poke through just beneath the wooden planks he was sitting on.

 

Two green eyes stared at him fearfully, uncertainty clear behind the fake smile she wore. She’d always been good at playing pretend, but he was good at seeing right through it. A fact which was unfortunate for a girl who survived by faking contentment.

 

He once again tried to help her up, just as he had done years before but of course she refused.

 

“I thought you weren’t going to come.” He admitted shyly once she’d sat down next to him.

 

“So did I.”

 

The words hurt. But he couldn’t say he was surprised by them. He was just happy she decided to come at all.

 

A long-lasting silence fell over them. What were they supposed to talk about? It had been more than four years since they’d last had a real conversation. It’s not as if they could just revert back to little kids again, as if nothing had happened between them, as if everything was normal.

 

Killian knew it couldn’t stay like this forever, though. Things weren’t just going to magically repair themselves between them if he simply sat in close proximity with her for long enough. He wished that’s how it could be, that they could just skip to the part where they were friends again (Or more, but one step at a time.). It just didn’t work like that.

 

“So… I suppose you’re wondering why I asked you to come here?”

 

She shrugged, her teeth chattering as she spoke. “Th-that would be helpful.”

 

It was only now that he realized he hadn’t offered her a blanket, and she wasn’t even wearing a jacket. How stupid could he get?

 

It was an awkward transaction. But, somewhere between him picking up the blanket, and the weird dance as he debated between handing it to her or putting it around her himself, she ended up with it wrapped securely around her shoulders.

 

Now came talking to her… about his feelings… in other words, now came the part where he’d either be overwhelmingly happy or have his heart crushed. Exciting.

 

“I don’t quite know how to talk to you, so I’m sorry if I sound like a bumbling moron at any point.”

 

Emma chuckled. It was the first time he’d heard her laugh in a very long time. It was strange how it sounded different and the same all at once. It was lower, raspier, but it still held that same melodious tone that made it so uniquely Emma.

 

“It’s just me, not Drew Barrymore.”

 

He could feel the heat rushing to the tips of his ears. Of course she’d remembered his childish crush on the star from E.T.

 

“You’re right… you are _much_ prettier than Drew Barrymore.”

 

She rolled her eyes at the compliment but her refusal to meet his gazed betrayed her. She liked being deemed prettier than the famed child star. Who wouldn’t?

 

A serious look fell across Killian’s face. Vastly different from the humorous tone the conversation had held before.

 

“Emma, I want to apologize to you. What I did to you all those years ago-“

 

“-Don’t,” Emma stopped him before he could finish, “I don’t need an apology. I don’t want you to feel sorry for me, ok? I’m not your fast track to feeling like a better person.”

 

It hurt him how angry she was, how sad her eyes looked. It was like he was back there in that schoolyard again, looking down at the little girl he’d just betrayed.

 

Surprisingly, she didn’t leave. He didn’t know why, and he didn’t care. This time, he’d get things right.

 

“Is that what you think I’m doing this for? Swan, I have been miserable for the last four years. I have to see you every day, and not get to talk to you, not get to call you my friend. It kills me. I don’t see you as some regret to get off my shoulders, I just want my friend back.”

 

He hated that he was starting to cry. He never cried. Even when he woke up to find his father’s room empty and his car gone, not a single tear fell from his eyes. Now here he was, on the verge of a break down over Emma Swan.

 

She didn’t say anything, so he continued on.

 

“I know we weren’t friends for very long. I know it’s stupid how bloody much I miss you, even with you right next door to me. But I don’t care, because when it comes down to it, you’re the only person I’ve ever felt normal around, and…” He paused, fear overcoming him for an instant. All he could seem to do was stare at her.

 

She looked back with equal fear, her eyes searching his face frantically.

 

He wondered if this is what it felt like to be in love as he gazed at her there beside him. The moonlight shone down on her, casting shadows on her face. In this light, she looked so much older, the darkness hiding her round cheeks and young skin, showing only the apprehension in her gaze. It was an emotion one only learns to have from many years of hurt. Killian did not see a girl too old for her years, but instead a mirror reflection of himself. A person who could understand him more than anyone in the world.

 

Wondering was all he did. The one thing their lives of pain and constant trials hadn’t taught them was how to love. So, it was only natural that Killian wrote off what he was feeling as nerves.

 

“And what?” She asked tentatively, as if afraid of the answer.

 

There was no answer. In a sudden flash of boldness, Killian was scooting closer, leaning in until his lips touched hers in the lightest of kisses.

 

For this instance, the world around him disappeared. All he knew, all he saw, all he cared about was _Emma_. This beautiful illusion shattered the minute she shoved him away from her, eyes wide with terror.

 

Was it terror? Had he really just disgusted her so much that the only emotion she could muster up was _terror?_

 

It felt as though he was staring at his heart in her hand, and she’d just crushed it into dust.

 

He started to apologize but didn’t get the chance.

 

“I can’t.” She choked out, then she was throwing the blanket off herself and rushing down the tree as fast as her strength would allow.

 

That night, Killian fell asleep with tears streaming down his face.

 

So did Emma. But he wouldn’t know that for a long while.

+++

_August 28 th, 2001, 8:30 pm _

 

“This is bloody amazing!”

 

Killian smiled, looking for just a second at the woman in his passenger seat. Her curly brown hair flew in all directions in the warm summer wind, making her look just as wild on the outside as she was within.

 

Milah had been in his life for almost a year now, and he found himself more and more intrigued with her with each passing day. She was older, _much_ older. Like, she was in her senior year of college and Killian was in his senior year of high school older. They’d met by chance, or rather, Killian had walked up to her booth at his school’s college day, and then somehow ended up with his tongue down her throat an hour later. The age gap may have been intimidating to most boys, but to him it only added to the excitement she brought into his once depressing life. He’d be 18 soon, anyway. It was just barely not legal…

 

 Milah was also from England. Which made her the only person he knew that was also a stranger to the country in which they lived.

 

In all honesty, it wasn’t any great love story. But he made her feel young, and she made him feel free. They weren’t hurting anyone, so what did it matter? That’s what he told himself and, most of the time, he believed it.

 

Her enthusiasm egged him on, his foot pressing the gas pedal so far down it almost touched the floor.

 

As if that wasn’t dangerous enough, he had only one hand on the wheel, the other planted firmly on her leg.

 

She squealed with joy at his accelerating speed, then turned the music up even louder. It was already up so high the whole car shook, but evidently that was not loud enough for her.

 

Killian thought the music was horrid. He had nothing against Brittany Spears, it’s just that his preference leaned less towards teeny bopper and more towards smooth rock. He also enjoyed classical music, but that was a secret only he and Liam knew... As well as a blonde girl he’d once known as a child, but he chose to forget that part of his life these days.

 

Milah was blissfully unaware of his aversion to Spears as she sang along ( _Loudly_ ).

 

“Where to, love? I was thinking that we could revisit that cave down by the river. You know, the one with the fantastic amounts of _privacy_.”

 

He half whispered the last part, his voice low and playful.

 

“We could…” She said, tracing up and down his arm with her finger, “Or we could go to that party you were telling me about?”

 

Suddenly he was frozen in place.

 

The party she was referring to was at Neal Cassidy’s home. Otherwise known as Killian’s former best friend, _and_ Emma’s boyfriend.

 

He mentally chastised himself for wincing at the thought of the two of them. He’d long since gotten over Emma Swan. There was no reason he should care whether she dated someone else.

 

He did care though. A lot.

 

“I don’t know… I told you how things are between Neal and me. It just doesn’t sound like a great idea-“

 

There wasn’t even time to finish his thought. Milah’s lips were on his, all caution and basic driver’s safety rules being thrown to the wind.

 

Luckily, they were in Storybrooke, on a backroad. In other words, no one else was gonna come.

 

His foot hit the break, and they came to a screeching halt right in the middle of the road.

 

“Please?” Milah whispered against his lips.

 

Her sparkling blue eyes met his when he pulled away, enchanting him just as they had the first day he’d seen her.

 

Some small part of him still wished it wasn’t those blue eyes he was looking into but piercing green ones. Wished that his fingers weren’t entwined in a mess of brunette curls, instead lost in a sea of golden waves. He quickly pushed those thoughts aside. Milah was the only woman in his life.

 

“Ok,” He said finally, defeated, “Let’s go to the bloody party.”

 

 Killian’s senses were immediately overwhelmed the minute he walked into Neal’s house.

 

The home was large. Larger than anything he could have even dreamt up. That was typical of Neal’s type of family, though. His father, to put it bluntly, was a conniving snake who Killian was almost sure earned his money in unsavory ways.

 

It wasn’t so much the size of the home that really shocked him, but the hordes of teenagers crowded together, screaming over the loud music, red solo cups scattered about their feet haphazardly.

 

Once again, the music wasn’t quite down his alley. Sure, he could understand _some_ of the hype around pop singers. But NSYNC? Wasn’t that so… 1995?

 

Milah, on the other hand, was thoroughly enjoying the music and the atmosphere that went with it. Killian tried to ignore it, but he was noticing more and more Milah’s obsession with the activities of his peers. She wanted to go to every party, every school game, and any other ridiculous high school function in between. He wrote it off as a desire for nostalgia at first, now it just seemed like she was using him to get back a long lost high school career.

 

“Aren’t you happy we came? This could be your last chance to be around all your friends before graduation. You know, being stupid… having _fun._ ”

 

She practically purred the last part. Suddenly it felt like he had a rock stuck in his throat. It didn’t help when he looked into her eyes, seeing the hungriness reflected back at him.

 

Being with an older woman had pushed Killian into a lot of things he otherwise wouldn’t have been ready for, but there was one thing he hadn’t yet done with her…

 

“Uhm, yeah,” Killian muttered awkwardly, “Are you thirsty? I’m thirsty.”

 

There was no opportunity for a reply. He couldn’t get to the punch bowl fast enough.

 

His hands shook as he poured the red substance into his cup. It was disconcerting to him how terrified he felt. This was what every teenaged boy wanted, right? A beautiful woman who was attracted to him, who wanted him… so why did the thought of being with her make him sick to his stomach?

 

The cup had barely been filled before he was gulping it down, the sting of the alcohol a welcome distraction from his conflicting thoughts.

 

Timing is a funny thing. Things sometimes happen when you don’t want them to. For example, Killian dreamt for years that he’d get a chance to prove himself to the girl next door. He’d watch her at school, or see her sitting on her porch, waiting and hoping with everything in him that one day she’d look back. Until one day her loving gaze was turned on a man that wasn’t him. That’s when he decided that his chance was never gonna come. So, when he looked over the rim of his cup and saw that girl sitting across the room, it seemed like the perfect example of terrible timing.

 

The cup slipped from his fingers and hit the floor. He didn’t even notice the remnants of his drink splashing across Neal’s hard wood floors. All he could focus on was the blonde ghost of his past.

 

It’s not as if he didn’t see her all the time, it’s just that he didn’t usually see her like this. Her hair was liberated from its usual ponytail, her thick, dark eyelashes dusting the frames of her glasses. And her dress… he swallowed hard. It was modest in comparison to the pieces of cloth every other girl wore, but it still hugged her figure, the fabric made of a dark faux leather.

 

He shouldn’t have felt the way he did as he stared at her. Heck, he shouldn’t have been staring at her. But he was only a mere mortal. No man was exempt from the enchanting ways of the female species.

 

Attraction was quickly replaced with anger when he took notice of her situation. Neal had his slimy hand on her waist, whilst August Booth leaned over her, the two of them arguing over her as if she was a piece of meat and they were two wild dogs.

 

All of the sudden he was faced with a huge dilemma. Milah was on the other side of the room waiting for him to come back with their drinks. But Emma… she needed him.

 

Ugh. Why did she still hold so much power over him? It was like she had some kind of magical charm cast on him, keeping him pining for her no matter how hard he tried to move on.

 

His head told him that she could take care of herself, that it wasn’t his fight. After all, they hadn’t even been friends since 1993. His feet disagreed, carrying him in the opposite direction of Milah like it wasn’t even a question as to what he should do.

 

“Get _away_ from me.”

 

Emma snapped through clenched teeth. Her hands were planted on August’s chest, pushing him away.

 

“Don’t worry, babe, I’ll deal with this sack of crap myself.”

 

She looked miserable, her face scrunched in pain as Neal’s hand gripped harder and harder onto her arm.

 

“No! I don’t want you near me right now either. Just back off, both of you.”

 

August, who was clearly drunk out of his mind, appeared to be fueled by her scornful words. In an instant he had her pulled from the couch, his face inches from hers.

 

“Forget about this loser, Emma,” He slurred. Emma grimaced, evidently repulsed by the smell of his breath.     “I have a motorcycle, and the place to myself for the weeken-“

 

August was abruptly cut off by Killian’s fist in his face. The hit had him tumbling backwards, his butt hitting the floor with a ‘thud’.

 

Emma’s eyes were wide when he finally looked at her. He didn’t know if she was scared, shocked or relieved. He didn’t really have time to think it over.

 

Neal’s fist came out of nowhere, then it was Killian who was on the ground, not quite sure what had happened until he tasted the blood on his lip.

 

“What the he**, Neal?”  Emma pushed Neal away from his dominant position above Killian.

 

“It’s not his job to fight for you, it’s mine,” His hand wrapped around her arm once more, tugging at her until she couldn’t take it anymore.

 

“No, it’s not! It’s not your job, and it’s not his either,” She pointed to Killian, “It’s my job, and mine only. So, if you would all kindly screw off, that would be freaking great!”

 

The angry blonde ripped her arm out of Neal’s grasp and stormed away, disappearing out the front door.

 

“Killi, are you ok?” Milah’s hands were on his face now, gently wiping at his bloodied lip.

 

He was far too distracted to answer her. The only thing he could think about was that furious girl he just watched run out the door.

 

Next thing he knew, he was running after her.

 

The humidity hit him like a forcefield the minute he stepped outside. It still didn’t stop him from bolting after the ever-distancing Emma.

 

How she could walk so fast in heels was beyond him. He was wearing boots and could barely keep up. He pressed on, not stopping until he was finally in reach of her.

 

They’d long since left the crowds behind. It was just the two of them, the quiet only broken by panting and the low chirp of crickets.

 

“Swan, slow down.”

 

“Stop following me.”

 

Normally, he’d comply. If there was one thing that he knew about Emma Swan, it was that you didn’t want to mess with her when she was angry. This just wasn’t the same as ‘normally’. He needed to talk to her, even if it _killed_ him.

 

“Will you just stop being so bloody stubborn for once in your life?!”

 

Finally, she stopped. Her eyes could have burnt a hole straight through him with the fire they held.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

He had to take a breath before he could answer. When did he get so out of shape?

 

“You always do this. Things get difficult and you just run away. We’re not kids anymore, Emma. Running from your problems won’t make them disappear.”

 

The only reply he got was a bitter scoff, followed by her walking away once again.

 

“Fine,” He deadpanned, “Run from me again. You’re only proving my point.”

 

She stopped dead in her track, her muscles visibly tensing. With her fists clenched, she stomped over until she was standing right in front of him.

 

Wherever they were was strangely dark. The only light was the moon, which was partially covered by a canopy of tree branches. It all served to make Emma look even scarier than she would have naturally, which was saying a lot, because she looked ready to kill.

 

“No. You don’t get to turn this around on me and make me look like the villain again. I didn’t ask for you to come to my rescue, Killian! Just like I didn’t ask you to kiss me on that stupid tree house, or tree floor or whatever it is all those years ago. That was all _you_. If you don’t like my reaction, that is not my freaking fault!”

 

He was torn between crying and screaming. Crying would make him look far too vulnerable, so he went with screaming.

 

“Oh, so every problem there’s ever been between us is my fault? Sure, I understand you being mad about what I did when we were kids, that was awful and wrong, and I regret it every day. I even get you being upset with me over the kiss. I shouldn’t have sprung that on you. But this? What just happened? How could you possibly be angry at me for defending you when you were in trouble?”

 

And to think, he was just gonna make an appearance at that stupid party and then duck out at the first given opportunity. How did he get here?

 

“You don’t get it. You will _never_ get it.” Even the darkness couldn’t hide the tears shining in her eyes. It broke his heart, having to see her like this. Emma didn’t like showing vulnerability any more than him.    “I’m not mad at you for defending me. I’m mad at you because no matter how hard I try to get away from you, to escape these stupid feelings I have when I’m around you, you have to come right back into my life. Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

 

That made him mad. _Really_ mad.

 

He didn’t realize he was such a burden on her back. Forget the fact that he’d been in torture for eight years over her. Forget that he was the one who had to watch her with someone else, while he pined away in the corner, waiting for her to realize he was the one for her. Yes, he understood that it hadn’t been easy for her. That didn’t mean it was a freaking cake walk for him.

 

“Wow. I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you with my existence, Swan. I’ll remember not to care about your wellbeing in the future. Please do forgive me for being so bloody selfish.”

 

“Are you serious? Do you really think that’s what I meant?”

 

She was screaming now. They both were. Good thing they’d left the party, otherwise they may have burst a few eardrums.

 

He laughed. Not a happy laugh. Nope, this was more of a “are you kidding me?” kind of laugh.

 

“I’m sorry, was there any other possible way I could have interpreted that? Because it seemed pretty clear to me.”

 

The only thing she could manage in response was a frustrated grunt.

 

It was about to be over. He was tired, exhausted, actually, of fighting for something that would just never happen. It was easier to just turn and walk away, to finally give up for good. But when she turned back to him, the mood changed. Her features were soft, understanding.

 

 There seemed to be a magnetic force between them, pulling them closer and closer by the second.

 

“I… I’m just scared.”

 

That stupid lump was in his throat again.

 

“Scared of what?”

 

He asked it carefully, tentatively, knowing he could accidentally push her away at any given moment.

 

“Of you.” She admitted.

 

Her eyes had been fixated on her feet, refusing to meet his gaze no matter how close he got to her. It couldn’t be avoided anymore as his hand came to her chin, gently tilting her head until she was forced to look him in the eye.

 

“Want to know a secret?” He whispered, “I’m scared of you too. Terrified, actually.”

 

They stayed like that for what felt like forever. Close, but not really touching save his hand on her face. It was like a strange game. _How close can we get without kissing?_

 

The answer was not much closer. Their lips met, slow at first, then deepening as each felt the other’s approval. It didn’t take long before they were practically swallowing each other.

 

He reveled in the taste of her. Sure, they’d technically kissed before. However, they were middle schoolers, and it wasn’t so much a kiss as a quick peck. This, _this_ was a kiss. The most amazing one he’d ever had.

 

His mind was flooded with thoughts. How she fit in his arms perfectly was the first thing that popped into his brain, followed by the stark realization that he’d come here with another woman. He should have cared. Really, he should have. He just couldn’t muster up the will to pull away from her. Except for long enough to pull her into his car, that is.

 

The drive itself was a blur. Next thing he knew, his lips were on hers again. He didn’t know what he was doing, or where it was gonna go. All Killian Jones knew and cared about in this moment was that he wanted Emma Swan.

 

And just for one perfect night, he got her.

+++

_August 29 th, 2001 _

 

Killian squeezed his eyes shut tighter as the bright morning sun beat down on his sleeping form.

 

Certain moments of the previous night flashed in his mind. Yelling, kissing… that other thing. He could still feel Emma’s hand, fitting so perfectly in his own. It was like it was made just for him to hold.

 

He didn’t want to say that word. That scary, life changing ‘L’ word. Even still, it was near impossible to find another word even half as fitting to what he was feeling right now.

 

One at a time, he opened his eyes. Instead of seeing Emma lying next to him, there was an empty space with nothing more than rumpled sheets to elude to someone having been there.

 

He shot up in his bed, his eyes frantically searching the room for any sign of Emma.

 

There was nothing. Not so much as a strand of hair was left behind.

 

Instantly, his happiness turned to hopelessness. Soul crushing, dream shattering sadness.

 

It suddenly occurred to him that she lived right across the street from him.

 

Maybe she’d just gotten hungry or was worried that Ingrid would think she was hurt or something and wanted to reassure her. There had to be a logical explanation why he’d fallen asleep with her in his arms yet woken up alone. There just… had to be.

 

 He quickly scurried over to his window, throwing aside his curtains with such force the rod holding them jolted out of place.

 

Nothing. She wasn’t in her room.

 

“Killian, get your lazy bum down here this instant!”

 

His brother’s voice was sobering. How long had he been staring out the window, anyway? It felt like a lifetime…

 

“I’m coming, Liam,” He half yelled, half groaned, “Tosser.”

 

“I heard that.”

 

“You were meant to.”

 

Killian tried to smile as he entered the kitchen. The last thing he needed was to encourage suspicion in his already nosy brother. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, looking more stiff than genuine. Thankfully Liam didn’t seem to notice.

 

“Bloody hades, Kili, it’s about time you got up. It’s 11:30 for heaven’s sake, not like I’m asking you to rise with the rooster.”

 

He shrugged as he took his place at the table. Liam had set out a plate of pancakes, but for some reason the thought of food made him ill. Instead of eating, he dragged his fork back and forth across his food as he tried to make sense of his past 24 hours.

 

“Sorry. I had a long night last night, must’ve slept through my alarm.”

 

Liam looked thoughtfully at his brother.

 

The brothers Jones were about as close as siblings could get. When their father left, they were all each other had in the world. Liam had to step up and become the father figure, and he played the part well. That included knowing when things weren’t quite right. Even when Killian was refusing to talk about it.

 

“Are you alright, little brother? You look sick…”

 

He felt it, too.

 

“ _Younger_ brother, and I’m fine. Like I said, it was just a long night.”

 

That was the understatement of the century. So many boundaries had been crossed the night before, it was impossible to even keep track. It had been a sequence of recklessness, the only thing that mattered being impulse and desire.

 

 “Were you drinking?”

 

Killian thought backed to the spiked punch he’d downed before running to Emma’s aid.

 

“No.” He lied.

 

It wasn’t like him to be dishonest. The fear of Liam’s reaction was enough to have him crossing many moral lines, so long as he could avoid judgement.

 

“Good. Besides the fact that you’re too young, it would be awfully unfun for you to have a hangover on moving day.”

 

“Moving day?”

 

Liam looked at him as if he was crazy.

 

“Aye. I told Ingrid you’d help the Nolan boy move Emma’s things out today.”

 

His heart dropped to his stomach. How could he have forgotten?

 

In all the emotions he’d so foolishly allowed himself to get lost in, one hard fact had slipped his mind. Emma was leaving for college. Today.

 

He cleared his throat before speaking, afraid his voice would crack and give him away.

 

“Why is James Nolan helping her move?”

 

It was a stupid question considering what was really going on inside his head. What he really wanted to do was cry. Just break down right there at the kitchen table. That wasn’t an option, of course, so it was far easier to move the subject off Emma than to face his feelings.

 

“Not James. David. You know, James’ more bashful, less evil other half?”

 

He did know. Just didn’t care at this point.

 

“You better eat fast, Ingrid is expecting y-“

 

Liam didn’t get the last word out. When he looked up, Killian was already slipping on his shoes and running out the door.

 

“Put that box on top of all the others, it has breakables in it.”

 

Ingrid instructed David, who obeyed without complaint. Even though said box was already on the very bottom of all the others, meaning he’d have to unload half the truck to get to it.

 

Killian felt awkward seeing the woman after what had happened between him and her daughter. Ingrid had been nothing but kind to him since the moment he met her, yet he knew that she had an icy edge to her. Especially when it came to Emma. It was a side of her he hadn’t yet been faced with and dreaded the thought of it.

 

“Killian!” She exclaimed upon seeing him, exasperation evident in her tone, “Liam said you’d be here at 10:00… Either my watch is broken, or you’re _late_.”

 

He curled into himself under her chilling stare, scratching behind his ear.

 

“I know, I’m sorry. Must’ve slept through my alarm.”

 

She gave him a look that said “not buying it” but seemed to be content on letting the subject go.

 

“Take David and go finish packing the rest of Emma’s things.”

 

Both boys did as told. It was not the day to be messing with Ingrid Swan, especially for Killian. If she had any idea the truth of why he’d been too tired to hear his alarm, his head would be off his shoulders and in her unrelenting grasp by now.

 

“Has she been in a poor mood all morning?” He asked David once she was out of earshot.

 

The look on his face told all.

 

He must have said something in reply, because Killian could see his lips moving from the corner of his eye. However, he didn’t hear a word of it. His eyes landed on Emma, whose own eyes were blown to the size of baseballs.

 

“Pardon me, mate, I’ll have to catch up with you in a bit.”

 

“Wait! Are you not even gonna help?” The blonde shouted from behind him.

 

“Of course, I will,” He hadn’t intended for it to come out so irritated, but he couldn’t help it. Everything in him was hurting. “Just… give me a minute, aye?”

 

David looked beyond pissed at him, but no further protests were made.

 

The minute she saw him coming toward her, she bolted into the next room so fast he was surprised she didn’t make a “zoom” noise. That, of course, did nothing to stop him from pursuing her. She loved to run, had to most of her life to survive. It was no surprised it still came as a first instinct to her, but as long and as far as she wanted to run, he’d keep running after her.

 

“Not so fast, Swan.”

 

He caught hold of her arm before she could make her getaway to the backdoor, spinning her around to face him.

 

Her beautiful face was ridden with conflict. Every apprehensive thought in her head showed clearly in her tormented expression.

 

“Let go of me, Killian.”

 

“No. Not until you tell me why you left without saying goodbye.”

 

She yanked her arm out of his grasp with one swift pull. If Emma Swan was anything it was stubborn. Her audacity could rival that of a bull’s.

 

“You’ve got to make everything hard, don’t you? You couldn’t have just let last night be the goodbye so that all this mess could end on a good note?”

 

Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes, spilling over despite her best efforts to stop them. He felt like he was cursed or something. No matter how hard he tried to make her happy, to show her how much he lo- _cared_ about her, all he did was make her cry. It was a miserable burden to bear.

 

“Is that all this thing is between us, then? A mess?”

 

“Don’t. Do not start with that. You know just as much as me that we’d be a disaster together. I mean,” She lowered her voice to a whisper, “We’re both dating other people and we went ahead and slept together anyway. Do you think that’s functional?”

 

It was only then that he remembered the woman he’d shown up to the party with. She didn’t even have a way to get home, he’d just left her there without any explanation whatsoever. A pang of guilt shot through him like a bullet.

 

“No, I don’t,”       He thought for a moment. He thought about the way he felt with every other girl he’d been with, and then about the way Emma made him feel. Yes, they’d all been easier, simpler, more “functional” relationships… but all of them had had one thing in common that made all of those other things obsolete. None of them were her.   “But I could care less about functionality, Swan. All I want is to be with you.”

 

Emma shook her head, stepping away from him.

 

“We can’t be together, Killian. Not now, not ever.”

 

Just like that, his whole world fell to pieces. Every ounce of hope he’d once had drained from him, leaving him feeling empty and broken.

 

It seemed impossible to speak, but he had to know one last thing.

 

“So that’s it? We have one night together, and now you’re just going to pack up your things and drive away like it didn’t mean a thing?”

 

 Her lips curved into a deep frown, her eyes refusing to meet his whilst her hands wrapped around herself protectively.

 

What she wanted to say was that it did mean something. That it meant _everything_. She wanted to just throw herself into his arms and forget about all the consequences. This was not one of her dreams, though. There were no happy endings in the real world, so what was the use in putting yourself through the pain only to come out the other side with nothing?

 

Her head moved in what she assumed was a nod. It was hard to tell through the numbness.

 

It was enough for him.

 

Killian left her standing there, running as fast as his feet could take him. It wasn’t right, leaving poor David to do all the work on his own, letting Ingrid down, but he just couldn’t be in that house one more second.

 

Once he reached his house, (Which suddenly seemed miles away.) he burst through the door, ignoring Liam’s cries of confusion as he rushed to his room.

 

Liam found him later, hunched over as he cried. There had been an attempt at protest as his older brother wrapped his arms around him, but it was futile.

 

The two of them stayed that way, safe in each other’s embrace, until Killian was finally too exhausted to hold his head up any longer.

+++

 

_July 15 th, 2004_

 

Killian’s fingers ghosted over the fabric of his uniform as he gazed at himself in the mirror.

 

It felt so strange. All his life he’d struggled with accepting this new nationality. Now here he was wearing the uniform of the American navy.

 

 The concept of American spirit had seemed as impossible for him to grasp as the strange culture of the country itself. Something about it was beautiful, though. All these different people from various places around the world, coming together to form one nation. In the end, he couldn’t fathom ever wanting to fight for any other country. Yes, he’d been born across the ocean and still had the accent to prove it. But since he was a child, the only place even close to a home to him was America.

 

Besides, it wasn’t as if college was an option for him. He’d discovered that after struggling to find one that wasn’t going to leave him thousands of dollars in debt by the end of four years.

 

“Feels right, doesn’t it?”

 

Killian jumped at the voice coming from the doorway. A smile made its way to his face when he saw his brother’s reflection behind him.

 

“Aye. Don’t think I’ve ever felt more right in all my life, brother.”

 

Liam slung his arm around his shoulder, a proud smile on his face. He, too, wore a naval uniform, though his was already well worn. The tan had faded ever so slightly as fabric does when exposed to the sun.

 

“The brothers Jones are going to go down in history,” He made a swooping motion with his hand as if pointing to letters written in the air, “American heroes.”

 

The older Jones always did have a flare for the dramatic. Not to say the younger didn’t have his moments, too.

 

“Heroism is most definitely something to celebrate but for tonight, how about we just have some fun?”

 

It was his last day at home before he left for the base in Virginia. The very last thing he wanted to do was think about his new-found occupation. He’d already glimpsed into his future while at basics, it wasn’t exactly the exhilarating, care-free life most 20-year-olds lead. For just one night, he wanted to be young and reckless. Before it was too late.

 

“Yes, of course. We’ve all the time in the world to become heroes. Tonight, we party!”

 

Killian rolled his eyes at Liam’s over the top enthusiasm, though inwardly he was just as excited.

 

“Just pull up the car, Liam.”

 

Voices carried across the pub they were at at abnormal rates. The rabbit hole was great deal different from a normal club or bar, the music old fashioned and always set to the lowest possible volume. The memo was not received by its patrons unfortunately, who still spoke as though their companions could barely hear them.

 

Liam was lucky. He got to drink. Which meant that he wasn’t nearly as bothered by the old man slurring old war stories to them from across the bar, or the married couple fighting on the other side of the room. And most recently, Liam was not perturbed by the drunken bachelorette party that had just come bursting into the place singing “Single Ladies” at the top of their lungs (And off key). 

 

Killian, however, had the misfortune of being underaged and had to sit sober through every one of the aforementioned atrocities.

 

Before he could stop him, Liam was getting up and heading towards the group of Beyoncé wannabes.

 

“Ladies, may I just say that your voices are like a symphony of angels.”

 

Killian almost fell out of his seat. If that was what angels sounded like, he did not look forward to the afterlife.

 

Most of the women ignored his idiotic brother’s pass but he did pick out one girl in the group who had a deep red blush on her pale cheeks. She was an attractive young girl with long, blonde hair all tied up into an intricate braid. She twirled the end of it nervously, her gaze dead fixed on Liam.

 

When Liam finally took notice of her, Killian noticed a swift but obvious shift in his sibling’s manner. No longer was he the confident, older man with poise and swagger, but a blushing boy completely smitten by the woman standing in front of him.

 

Ok, it was definitely time for a rescue.

 

“Excuse me ladies, I’m afraid I let my brother here get away.”

 

Now that he was closer, he recognized the other women in the group as Mary Margret Blanchard, Ruby Lucas and Lily Starr. They’d all been attendees of Storybrooke High, though Mary Margret was a grade ahead of him. Truthfully, it was not the fact that they were his classmates that he first remembered about them, but that they were three of Emma’s best friends. A thing which had him wondering…

 

“Killian?”

 

His entire body tensed at the familiar voice. This had to be a dream. Somebody needed to pinch him quickly.

 

With reluctance, he turned to face her. The minute he saw her, it was as if he was 17 again. It was happiness and excitement, anger and pain all at once.

 

Against all his best instincts, he allowed himself to look her over. She looked so much different, so much older than when he saw her last. The first thing he noted was that she wasn’t wearing her glasses anymore, then after that his eyes had drifted to the rest of her. The hot pink cocktail dress differed so much from what she used to wear, both shorter and tighter than anything he’d seen her in before. But she looked good in it. He hated _how_ good she looked in it, actually.

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

The question had come out far more hostile than he’d meant. Maybe he was a little more resentful than he thought.

 

She gestured to the group of women who were now dancing with Liam in the middle of them.

 

“Mary Margret and David are finally getting married.”

 

Killian vaguely recalled the couple. If nothing else, he could remember the sickeningly sweet way the two of them used to look at one another.

 

Her eyes fell to his uniform. She must have had a million questions.

 

It hadn’t been that long since they were last together, but so much had changed in both of their lives. It was like two strangers meeting for the first time. She’d gone off to college, on to bigger and better things and him… well, he was about to start a journey of his own.

 

For a minute it looked as though she wanted to say something. Her mouth kept opening and then closing, each time a little bit of the space between them depleting.

 

Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore.

 

“Well, Liam and I have to be on our way. Give the happy couple my congratulations.” 

 

He’d been down this same path with Emma before. It would seem like just an innocent catching up but would lead to pain and heartbreak. He just couldn’t be trusted around her.

 

Liam made it difficult to get away. He and the blushing blonde were stuck together like glue, moving along with the music. Eventually, he’d been able to pry him off of her. If he hadn’t, he would have just taken the girl with them. Anything to get away from Emma.

 

There was a new life ahead of him now. New places, new opportunities, new people… there was no going backwards anymore.

 

Twice Emma Swan had run away from him. Now, he was running from her.

 

Later, when Liam asked him why he rushed out in such a hurry, the only answer he could give was “Emma.”

Funny enough, Liam knew exactly what he meant.

+++

_May 26 th, 2018_

 

There wasn’t much that could shake Killian Jones anymore. He’d led such a different life than most. From childhood, when he had to be ripped away from his home because of the mistakes of his father. If he could even be called that. It wasn’t as if he’d stuck around to fulfill the duties that came with fatherhood…

 

 Even when he’d grown older, life just didn’t seem to go his way. He’d both joined then been dispatched from the navy, thereafter going from place to place in search of work. Turned out not many people wanted to hire veterans, especially those with disablements.

 

He looked down at his arm, observing sadly the severed stump where his hand once was.

 

Eventually this search had led him right back to his hometown where he was able to find a job as a boat repairman, a surprisingly decent career path in a town that sat right up against a body of water. He even lived in the same small, worn down house he’d grown up in.

 

 There was also a long string of women that had come in and out of his life, none seeming to leave much of a mark aside from a left behind shoe or a tube of forgotten mascara.

 

All in all, he’d been through enough trial to know it was easier not to care. Which was exactly why he despised himself for caring so dang much about the woman who’d just come back into his life the day before.

 

Emma Swan. Even the thought of her name had his whole body trembling. He hadn’t even been able to make eye contact with her.

 

It was pathetic. Really, what grown man was so afraid to face his ghosts that he couldn’t even leave his house?

 

If only said ghost didn’t have such soft skin and unrealistically green eyes.

 

He downed the rest of his drink. Yes, he was drinking at 10:30 in the morning. If he wasn’t, he’d have never made it from his bed to the living room.

 

 No 35-year-old, fully grown man should be so freaking scared to open his curtains. That didn’t seem to stop his hands from shaking as he drew back the cloth, letting the light stream into his dismal home.

 

It made him just a little sad to see the old yellow bug parked in front of the Swan house. The last time he’d seen it had been before… well, before Ingrid’s passing. Ever since then, the driveway as well as the house had been nothing more than an empty shell, constantly reminding him of his past every time he walked by it.

 

There was some manner of life back in it now. The paint was still peeling, and the grass was overgrown, but it no longer had that depressing “No trespassing” sign in front of it. That was a start.

 

The car didn’t hold his attention for long. How could it when a blonde angel sat out on the porch?

 

The scene looked so familiar. There had been many times when he watched her out there on that porch swing as a boy. He remembered how at peace she’d always looked, how happy and content. The only difference was that she no longer had her mother at her side. In her place, there was nothing but an empty space.

 

His eyes looked over her thoughtfully. It was idiotic, allowing himself to indulge in such dangerous old habits. How could it be helped when she was still Emma, the girl he’d yearned for since the day he first saw her. Older, with evidence of the hardships she’d had to endure written all over her lovely face, but still Emma. His mind told him that he was long over her, but his heart was still in the palm of her hand.

 

He pushed those perilous thoughts aside. That love-sick teenager had died a long time ago, replaced by a man unfeeling and closed off to the world. That was how he avoided hurt. That was what worked.

 

Once again, the curtain slipped back over the window. Darkness was a lot more comfortable to him, anyway.

 

The weekend passed as quick as it had come and before he could blink, Killian was going back to work. Which meant he’d have to leave his house… which meant he might run into Emma.

 

Could he use a sick day? No, he’d already used his last one two weeks earlier when he’d woken up hungover.

 

There were no vacation days, no personal days, no anything to get him out of going. It was time to man up. It wasn’t as if he could stay held up in his house forever anyway. Eventually he would’ve run out of food… and rum. Which would have been more of a crisis was up for debate.

 

“Bloody he**, just man up and go outside.” He scolded himself as he stood motionless at his front door.

 

Slowly, his hand made its way to the doorknob. A minute or so later, he’d worked up the courage to twist it, then it had only taken about 30 seconds for him to push the door open. Progress, he thought. Now all he had to do was make a mad dash for his car and drive away before Emma could see him.

 

Simple enough, right?

 

Wrong.

 

Halfway between his door and the corvette, she had come out on her porch. Her gaze immediately fell on him, of course, given that he was running to his car like a madman.

 

The first thought that had crossed his mind was “Can I still make it to my car without it being obvious that I’m trying to get away from her?” Obviously, the answer was no. His second thought had been what the best excuse was as to why he needed to get away in a hurry. Which led to him bumbling like a darn fool about work and his strict boss. He knew he didn’t have a boss, but she didn’t.

 

She’d said nothing in reply, which he took as an opportunity to make his escape.

 

This routine couldn’t go on forever. Fate was not that kind to him.

 

Though, for today, he was grateful to have avoided the inevitable run in with his past. The more distance between the two of them, the better.

 

Much to his surprise, Killian was able to pull off a skillful getaway many more times.

 

Tuesday, he’d slipped out his door and made off just before Emma opened her curtains for the day.

 

Wednesday had been a little trickier as Emma had chosen that day to begin painting the exterior of her house. To avoid her, he’d taken his backdoor, careful to not make a noise until safely inside his vehicle. Thursday and Friday followed the same accord. Darn that Swan and her work ethic. Couldn’t she just take one day off from tormenting him?

 

It wasn’t fair, really. After all, she had no idea of the affects her coming back to Storybrooke were having on him. Still, he desperately longed for a moment of peace. A night without dreaming of her, a morning without seeing her. Some small shred of reprieve from this now constant torture.

 

The arrival of the weekend was a welcome solace from his week of anxiety. He’d sit in his living room, blast his favorite classical music mashups and not draw open the curtains no matter how low his vitamin D intake got.

 

Oh, and of course there’d be rum. Lots and lots of rum.

 

It was the perfect recipe for the perfect weekend and it would have gone off without a stitch if it hadn’t been for his blasted neighbor, Robin Locksley.

 

 _“You need to get out tonight, mate.”_ He’d said. _“It’ll do you some good.”_ He’d said.

 

What a load of crap that had been. Now instead of drinking alone at home, he was drinking alone in a bar while Robin and his fiancée, Regina, were off making out somewhere.

 

The bar tender tried to keep up conversation with him, the poor guy. It wasn’t that Killian didn’t care about the man’s crazy ex or newfound love of mixology- no, it was that. He _really_ didn’t care. There was also a certain obligation he felt to keep sitting there for whatever reason, so in the end his misery was brought along by his own foolish decisions. Though Robin was definitely not innocent in the matter.

 

“Best of luck with your love life, mate,” He finally spoke, interrupting the man’s long tangent about how his former girlfriend had hacked his Instagram account, “But I really must be going now.”

 

“Oh, yeah, of course,” The bartender mumbled awkwardly, “Sorry for the autobiography, that stuff kind of just slips out without my meaning it sometimes.”

 

Feeling suddenly sorry for the guy, Killian made sure to leave a sizable tip for him. If he was really a good person, he’d have stayed and let him ramble on for another hour or two. Thankfully he never claimed to be _that_ good of a person. Heaven knows he couldn’t withstand another second of this stranger’s gut spilling without losing his mind.

 

The crisp, spring air filled his lungs as he stepped out of the bar. He was fortunate to live close enough to town to walk home if he so pleased, yet something pulled him towards the docks.

 

Ever since he could remember, the water had been a kind of therapy for him. His soul felt at ease when he heard the crashing of waves, the breeze blowing through his thick hair.

 

His feet carried him until he was at the edge of the dock, so far out that his toes teetered over the edge. His eyes fell closed and he could feel the tenseness he’d been feeling all week leave his body as if it had never been there to begin with. It was just him and the water, swaying in sync, an inexplicable peace settling over him.

 

 That peace was soon disrupted by the sudden flashes of horror which wormed their way into his mind. Loud explosions, his brother’s face twisted in pain and finally, a blonde blur. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, trying to bring her into focus, trying to reach her. She just kept running, getting farther and farther away until she was a mere speck in the mess of images running through his brain.

 

“Killian, are you ok?”

 

His eyes shot open at the sound of Robin’s voice. The sudden jolt had him almost tumbling into the water, his friend grabbing hold of him just before he slipped into the cold waves.

 

“Bloody hell, Rob! Don’t scare me like that.”

 

Robin pulled him farther away from the edge, both literally and metaphorically. Truth be told, if it hadn’t been for his friend’s well-timed interruption, he might have fallen into that water on purpose. The past was a scary thing at times, a thing which can make one question the point of a future.

 

“Sorry, mate. Regina and I were just worried when we didn’t find you back at the rabbit hole.”

 

Killian finally noticed Robin’s fiancé standing behind him. Worried was not exactly the word he’d use to describe her. ‘Murderously annoyed’, now that was a good description of Regina Mills in this moment.

 

She flipped her short, dark hair over her shoulder, scowling at him in that patented way she always did when he got in the way of hers and Robin’s date nights. Which he often did, more due to Robin’s endless nagging that he leave his house than him actually wanting to be their third wheel.

 

“Well, I’m fine,” He deadpanned, shrugging out of Robin’s hold, “So you two lovers can get back to swapping spit again.”

 

A deep blush colored Robin’s face at the insinuation. It was almost funny how different he and his bride to be were. While he shrunk into himself bashfully at every quip Killian made about their love life, Regina boldly bit back, unashamed of their constant PDA.

 

“Thanks, we will. Try to get home without stumbling into any strange woman’s bed, k?”

 

He turned around, seeing the brunette with a vindictive smile across her perfectly made-up face.

 

The two of them often had spats like this. Robin liked to call them brother and sister because they, quote, “Bicker like two children” with one another. In the end, there was a mutual respect between them… just accompanied by an equally strong disdain.

 

“Thanks for the advice, love. I do hope you can make it home safe before all that makeup gives out, else Robin might think he’s winding up in a stranger’s bed tonight, too…” A wicked grin spread across his face, “By the way, Rob, Regina’s lipstick is a lovely shade on you!”

 

With that, he was gone, leaving a very red Robin and a fuming Regina alone at the docks.

 

His house was a heavenly sight after the night he’d had.

 

From oversharing bartenders to almost-dives into freezing water, ending with Regina’s sass, it had been a whirlwind evening. All he wanted to do was fall into bed.

 

But the whirlwind wasn’t quite finished yet.

 

He stared, speechless, at the woman on his porch. He must’ve looked like a deer in headlights, his eyes wide as saucers and words refusing to come out.

 

It was strange seeing her so close. He’d taken notice of how different she looked, but now it was even more shocking. The extremities she’d been through were obvious. She didn’t look bad by any definition of the word. Quite the opposite, she looked breathtaking. However, there were new scars on her skin, and a dimness in her eyes that made known to the world she’d experienced more hardships than most.

 

“Hi.” She breathed.

 

Her own nerves were clear as well, her hands rubbing against her thighs as she contemplated her next move.

 

He swallowed back the boulder sized lump in his throat. This was a situation he’d pictured many times since her arrival, none of the pictured scenarios coming to a pretty ending.

 

“W-Why are you here?”

 

A silence fell, allowing him to muster up the courage to come closer. She took this as the ok to answer, diverting her gaze as she spoke.

 

“It’s stupid, but I guess I just thought maybe it would be easier for both of us if we just got this out of the way.”

 

“What would be easier?”

 

His voice sounded so weak and shaky, it made him feel foolish. She was just a woman. He’d spoken to-neig, _charmed_ countless members of the gender before. So why was it so stupidly hard to speak to her?

 

Perhaps because she wasn’t _just_ a woman. She was the woman he’d vied for for half his life, who had held and broken his heart multiple times.

 

“This,” She gestured between the two of them, “The whole being neighbors thing. I thought it might take a lot of stress of both of us if we just put aside all that stuff from the past, y’know? Just get it out in the open and let it go once and for all.”

 

He schooled his features, his emotions threatening to get the better of him. To this day, Emma had the power to make him feel angry and out of his mind attracted to her all at once. Like he wanted to fight with her and kiss her, both at the same time. It was the most confusing and disorienting mix of emotions, which only she had the ability to combine in him.

 

“Do you really think it’s going to be that easy, Swan?”

 

 It was a surprisingly genuine question. No sarcasm or frustration laced into his tone like some might expect from a man whose heart was as hardened as his was towards Emma. He honestly wanted to know whether it could be so simple. Because he too wanted more than anything to move on from their troubled past, to see a light at the end of the tunnel they’d been trapped in for so long.

 

_Was it that easy?_

 

She met his eyes then, hope lighting up her features.

 

“I think it’s worth a shot,” A beat went by before she added, “If nothing else, it will save you from having to keep sneaking out of your house every day.”

 

The tips of his elvish ears turned bright red. So, she had noticed.

 

“Aye, that might be nice.”

 

He must have been crazy. Or maybe it was the alcohol still moving through his bloodstream. Either way, Killian Jones was most certainly not in his right mind when he uttered his next words.

 

“Do you want to come over for dinner tomorrow night? We can clear the air, and I promise I won’t poison you with my cooking.”

 

A short laugh was shared.

 

 _‘Wow’_ , he thought. She still had that same beautiful, infectious laugh she had when they were kids.

 

“Yeah, that sounds good. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

 

One mortifying reality came crashing over him the minute he closed his door behind him. A reality that had him melting to the ground in a puddle of pathetic man as it dawned on him.

 

He was not over Emma Swan.

+++

 

_June 2 nd, 2018, 6:30 pm _

 

Killian Jones had three great skills. One of them was sailing, the other art, and the third was cooking.

 

He’d only been made aware of the third skill recently. When he’d been discharged from the navy, he found it difficult to draw without his dominant hand. It had also taken quite a while for him to want to get back out on the water, which left him with very little to do in his spare time. Having very little money, it wasn’t an option to constantly be eating out, so Killian had taken to making his own meals. It hadn’t taken long after for him to discover his natural penchant and surprising love for the culinary arts.

 

Those skills were in full use tonight, every burner on his stove blasted to high in preparation for Emma.

 

The smell of searing bread filled the air as he flipped a grilled cheese over, letting the other side turn the same golden-brown color as its opposite.

 

Ok, so grilled cheese wasn’t exactly gourmet food. It definitely wasn’t his meal of choice, but if he remembered correctly it was Emma’s favorite food in the entire world. He recalled many playdates at her house, he and Emma sitting at her big round table waiting while Ingrid made them both her “famous” grilled cheese.

 

_“The trick is,” The woman would whisper, treating it like top secret information, “You use three different kinds of cheese, and olive oil to grease the pan instead of butter.”_

 

It was difficult trying to copy the recipe. At first, he’d forgotten about the olive oil and had to rinse out his pan and start over. Then, he couldn’t remember which three cheeses Ingrid used to use. Eventually, it all seemed to come together but he still feared that it wouldn’t be identical to the original concoction.

 

In addition to the grilled cheese, he was cooking a tomato soup of his own recipe. It was all ridiculously American food. It was what Emma liked, though, and goodness knows he’d move mountains just for the chance to see her smile.

 

The doorbell rang just as he turned the burner off.

 

“Sorry for the mess I wasn’t expecting you so…” He trailed off when he saw her.

 

_Whoa._

 

Her hair fell in natural waves down her shoulders, framing her face which was near bare of any makeup. A small patch of freckles covered her nose, which he found utterly adorable, and she wore a simple tank top and skin-tight jeans.

 

Something about the look was just so… _her_. She’d never been one for copious amounts of makeup or outlandish attire. The Emma that he knew always had thick glasses and baggy clothes, but there was something about the way she looked tonight that seemed so familiar still. An elegance that can only be brought upon by perfect simplicity.

 

Her lips curved in a small half-smile.

 

“I know I wasn’t supposed to get here until 7:00, but I can smell the food all the way from my house and I’m _starving_.”

 

“Well far be it from me to keep you waiting when you’re so hungry, Swan.” He winked, stepping aside so she could come in.

 

Her face immediately lit up when she saw what he’d made.

 

“Is this what I think it is?”

 

“I hope so. I haven’t tested the resemblance yet, so don’t get excited until you taste it, ok?”

 

She rolled her eyes in response.

 

“It doesn’t matter what it tastes like. It’s amazing that you did this at all.”

 

It felt good to know he made her happy, even if the taste didn’t check out. Which apparently, it did.

 

“Oh my gosh,” Emma exalted through a bite of grilled cheese, “This is amazing.”

 

Killian fidgeted nervously in his seat. Somehow, some way, she managed to make tearing into a slab of greasy bread and cheese look attractive.

 

He shrugged.

 

“It’s not anywhere close to Ingrid’s recipe, but I hope I did it some justice.”

 

The look on her face told him she didn’t want to speak about Ingrid. It made sense, wanting to avoid talking about those you’ve lost rather than face the reality that they’re gone. He understood that better than anyone.

 

They finished eating in silence, save a few compliments regarding his soup or the quality of the wine they were drinking.

 

Then came the hard part. The part where he’d have to tell her he’d moved on even though he knew deep down that he hadn’t.

 

“Killian-“

 

“-Want to sit in the living room? Might be more comfortable.”

 

The move bought him some time. There was no avoiding the talk though. It was the reason she was here, after all. It wasn’t as if he could feed her her favorite childhood meal and she’d just forget why she came. Not that he didn’t try, because if that was even a tiny possibility he was going to take advantage of it. Anything to evade the dreaded conversation looming over them.

 

Emma looked around his home like a person looks at a display in a museum. Appreciative of the story behind it, taking in fondly the tokens of a past long since left behind.

 

“This place looks exactly the same as it did when we were kids.”

 

It was true. He didn’t have the heart to change a thing when he’d finally come home, even though many of the furniture was run down and depleting from lack of use. If it wasn’t vital to the structure of the house that he repair or replace certain things, he just didn’t.

 

“Aye, it’s probably the only thing in my life that hasn’t changed since I saw you last.”

 

She settled her gaze on him then, looking over every facet of his face, every curve of muscle, and finally falling on his prosthetic. Her mouth fell open, a quiet gasp of realization spilling from it.

 

Quick as he could manage, he hid it behind himself, ashamed at his missing piece.

 

Seeming to have noticed his embarrassment, she put a lighthearted smile on her face. “Yeah… last time I saw you, you couldn’t grow such a full beard. I’m impressed, Jones.”

 

He laughed, his hand subconsciously going to smooth said facial hair. Sadly, she was right. 17-year-old Killian tried and failed to grow a beard on multiple occasions, as many teenaged boys do. A thing which set him apart from the rest of those awkward teenagers was that he grew into his large ears, developed the ability to grow facial hair successfully and, thanks to the Navy, filled out quite nicely. The same could not be said for many of his old classmates, who Robin had taken the liberty of looking up on Facebook for him.

 

“And last time you were here, you were half blind. Sudden miracle?”

 

“A sudden miracle called contacts.”

 

“I don’t know, Swan…” Killian began, smiling far too wide, “I quite liked the glasses myself.”

 

Emma bit her lip, evidently to keep from smiling as big and stupidly as he was.

 

A time when they smiled like this at each other came back to him as fresh as if it were happening right then and there. A time where he’d held her close and whispered words of affection into her ear until she drifted into a sweet slumber. It was so, so clear, he could almost still feel the thud of her heart against his.

 

Real life was not so sweet. There could only be so much laughter until they both had to face the hard truth before them.

 

An abrupt seriousness pressed her smile into a firm line and took the tiny spark of happiness out of her eyes. It was such a quick shift, Killian had to wonder whether he’d imagined the joyful moment between them.

 

“Killian, we can’t do this again.”

 

His eyebrows knit together in confusion.

 

“Do what exactly?”

 

He watched as she shifted in her seat, turning away from him. It was a familiar motion. He’d seen her do the same thing before, when she was scared and wanted to shut herself off from him.

 

“We can’t let ourselves do something stupid. If I’m gonna live so close to you, I don’t want every interaction between us to be awkward because we drank too much wine and got too nostalgic.”

 

“Wait,” Killian held his hand out defensively, “Do you think I’m trying to get you to sleep with me or something?”

 

Her face turned red and she instinctively tucked her hair behind her ears. Both tell-tale signs that she was thinking _just_ that.

 

“My heavens, Emma, how little do you think of me? Sure, I may not be prince charming or anything but I’m a gentleman and I do not lure women into my home with grilled cheese in hopes of seducing them.”

 

That seemed to make her mad. She hopped up from the couch, flinging her hands in the air angrily.

 

Man, was she a sight to behold standing above him like that. Her lips were set in a grimace that would have a war general running for the hills, her eyes narrowing to menacing slits.

 

“I did not come here to have you guilt trip me, Killian! Gosh, you make me wish I never even came back to this stupid town.”

 

Killian stood up too.

 

“I wasn’t trying to guilt trip you and if you didn’t want to face your old demons then why did you come back here anyway? I always thought you wanted to be as far away from this infernal town as you could get. What made you reduce yourself to Storybrooke again, huh?”

 

“Not that it’s any of your business but I came back because it’s what Ingrid wanted me to do!” The mood changed again. This time somber and broken hearted.

 

Killian felt guilty now. Especially when tears began to fill her eyes.

 

There goes that curse of his again.  

 

Emma wiped at her cheeks to keep the tears from falling.

 

“It was in her will… that I get the house. I just couldn’t bring myself to come back after-“ She stopped herself when she felt it was getting too deep. Vulnerability never was her strong suit. One among many things that they had in common. “I should have come back sooner. But I’m here now and I’m not gonna let you scare me off.”

 

She dashed out of the room, Killian following closely behind.

 

“Love, wait.”

 

“No.”

 

Her hand was on the doorknob, ready to walk out of his life once more. He’d sooner lose his other hand than let that woman disappear from him again.

 

His hand rested on her shoulder as he spoke his next words brokenly.

 

“I know what it’s like to want to make someone you lost proud,” She still refused to face him, but that didn’t stop him from saying what he needed to,  “I swear to you, I would rather move away myself than even risk pushing you away from something you feel you need to do, Emma.”

 

Slowly, she turned to him. They were so close, he could feel her breath on his skin as she exhaled.

 

There was so much understanding written on her face, he felt like he could spill his guts to her and she’d still just stand there giving him that reassuring look. It was a wordless exchange of feelings that meant more to him than any words of solace others could offer him.

 

He was sure that she’d now caught on to the picture on his wall which read “In memory of…”, maybe she’d even seen the silver urn on his mantel. But she still didn’t comment on it, knowing better than to speak this new revelation aloud.

 

It was hanging in the air between them. So obvious, so clear that he didn’t need to hear her say his name to know that she knew the truth.

 

“We were friends once.”

 

It came out of nowhere, framed not as a question but as a point-blank statement.

 

All he could do was nod. Was there even another way to respond?

 

“Let’s try that again.”

 

She opened the door and walked out, leaving him standing there in his foyer with a baffled expression.

 

When he settled into bed that night, the whole evening stayed steadfastly on his mind. Nothing had gone as planned, but he was left with a bizarre peace about the whole situation.

 

Friends. That was something he could do.

 

At least, he thought he could.

+++

 

_June 13 th, 2018_

 

“I’m gonna whip your butt, Jones.”

 

Emma stated from across the table, her eyes locked with his.

 

“We’ll see about that, lass.”

 

The crowd around them roared with excitement as Emma steadied her pool que.

 

It was a fascinating sight. She was fully concentrated on the white ball at the end of her que, one eye closed whilst the other worked on finding the perfect aim. If she hit it just right, it would knock the eight ball into the pocket. If she missed her mark even a little, she’d practically give the game to him.

 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but my money is one hundred percent on Emma.”

 

Killian glared daggers at his friend, who was smiling back at him like a kid in a candy store.

 

“Just don’t be too sure of that, mate.” He said, his tongue in his cheek as he smirked at his competitor.

 

“Right corner pocket” She called out then struck the white ball, sending it flying across the table.

 

The eight ball went straight into the designated pocket.

 

Everyone in the room screamed loudly at the spectacle. In the midst of the chaos, all Emma did was smile smugly at him.

 

Dread filled him at the thought of her I told you so’s. Still, he couldn’t help but join in on the celebration. Even if he was sad to be the loser of the night, there was no denying how bloody brilliant and worthy the victor was.

 

“Thanks for losing, pal. Just put a pretty sum of 15 dollars in my pocket.” Robin winked at him before going to collect his money from a very disappointed Victor Whale.

 

Eventually, she made her way through the rejoicing throngs of captivated strangers. Several of which were sleeze bags who made a point of cat calling as she walked by. Of course, she snarled in response to all of them, continuing on without a word.

 

“How does it feel to lose so publicly?”

 

He smiled down at her. “How can I be upset when my defeater is so very worthy?”

 

“Please,” She scoffed, swatting him playfully, “The Killian Jones I knew never took losing so lightly.”

 

“Perhaps I’m not the same Killian Jones you once knew.”

 

Even in the mass of people, he couldn’t seem to see a thing but her. Her bright smile and kind eyes so alluring that they kept him utterly transfixed.

 

Her eyelashes fluttered as she looked to her feet, then back up at him again. Really, his heart shouldn’t have been beating so out of control. They were friends now and he liked it that way. Honest, he did. (His dreams said otherwise, but he wrote that off as a shallow attraction thing.)

 

He walked her home after the night was over. She’d had one too many tequila shots in celebration of her win and he worried that she might wonder into the street or end up going home with some strange and untrustworthy man.

 

There wasn’t a single doubt in his mind that she could and would take care of herself. She’d done so her whole life and that didn’t change just because he was part of that life again. It wasn’t that he thought she needed him, but that he _wanted_ to be there for her. Because he cared, and because that was what friends did for each other. They looked out for one another no matter what.

 

 _“Killian?”_ She’d whispered as he unlocked her door for her.

 

_“Yes?”_

 

_“I’m glad we’re friends again.”_

 

He’d ducked his head solemnly, giving her once last smile before she left him for the evening.  

 

_“Aye, love, me too.”_

_+++_

_July 4th, 2018_

 

The whole town was once again alight with patriotic excitement for the holiday. Everywhere you went, it was red, white and blue, every song you heard was the national anthem.

 

Now that he was a veteran, Killian couldn’t escape the showers of praise and unwanted attention he received on the 4th. The first year he’d come back, he’d tried to resist it but, in the end, he knew it was no use. Storybrooke was small. He could hide, but they’d find him. Which is exactly what began the tradition of him riding in the 4th of July parade.

 

He felt completely ridiculous from his high place atop the honorary veteran’s float. It was modestly decorated in comparison to the others, with a big banner reading “War Vets of Storybrooke” in sparkly letters. (As was said, it was only modest in _comparison_.) It was only him and three other people, none of which he was acquainted with. The sparseness of the float riders made him more uncomfortable than he already would have been.

 

The town cheered loudly as they rolled by, kids running to gather the candy they were throwing out. Many of their parents stopped them just short of running out in front of the float. The things children did for sugar.

 

Person after person went by and so his ingenuine grin stayed plastered on his face. Until one person in particular came into view, her smile so wide and so real that he couldn’t help but return it.

 

“I like your glitter!” She called out jokingly.

 

A cheeky grin and a wink was his only reply.

 

He liked her everything.

 

As the evening wore on, the festivities died down. Everyone anxiously awaited the fireworks show, sitting on blankets and in cars all along the streets. Among them was the mess left behind by the parade. Candy was strewn all about, confetti hung from trees and floats that were once sparkling and beautiful began to be disassembled.

 

Killian was enjoying the calm after the storm. Both literally and figuratively speaking. It seemed nowadays that he didn’t gravitate towards the bottle as much. The curtains that used to be closed at all times were now pushed to the side, allowing the outside world to stream into his home. Everything had seemed so lost, so messed up for so long and now they just… weren’t. The reason was unclear, at least to him.

 

“Open up, Jones!” A loud voice accompanied by a rap on his door broke him from his revelry.

 

It was unmistakably Emma’s. He’d recognize the soothing raspy tone of her voice anywhere.

 

“Oy, Swan, have a bit of patience.”

 

He scolded her, though the quirk of his lips made it known he wasn’t serious.

 

“Patience? Who has time for that?”

 

The smell of her perfume washed over him like a sweet mist. In a moment of weakness, his eyes fell shut and he just breathed her in. If he hadn’t of caught himself before she’d noticed, she might think he was insane.

 

A mischievous grin spread across her face, her eyes sparkling beneath her thick lashes.

 

“Come with me? I have a surprise.” She asked almost sheepishly, her hand held out as an offer

 

“I don’t know… how do I know this surprise isn’t you taking me into the woods and disposing of me,” He made air quotes with his fingers at the word “disposing”, “Huh, Swan?”

 

If her eyes rolled back any farther she’d be looking straight at her brain. One thing that hadn’t changed about her over the years was her absolute intolerance for his crap. He liked that about her.

 

“Believe me, if I wanted to kill you I’d have done it already.”

 

Never were truer words spoken.

 

Without further protest, he took her hand, following her all the way to the… backyard?

 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, love, but I’ve seen my backyard before, so this isn’t much of a surprise.”

 

She shoved him lightly, the classic “wow you’re an idiot” look painted across her face.

 

“Look up.”

 

Doing as told, his eyes drifted upwards. What he saw was shocking, to say the least.

 

The sad thing about time is that it makes things fade. Love, friendships, but more literally: wood. Because of this, the wooden planks Killian’s father had put in a tree when he was a kid eventually became dull and cracked, fading into the tree just as if they were never really there.

 

Now, however, he could see that platform resting within the branches of his oak as clear as the first day his dad put them there. The planks were freshly painted, with a blanket spread across them and what looked to be a bottle of Jack Daniels sitting in wait.

 

“How did… when did you…”

 

Emma shrugged. It was a silly thing to do, really. You shrug when you buy someone a birthday card or a bouquet of flowers and they thank you far too enthusiastically for it. You do not shrug when you replenish a person’s childhood memory for them without even being asked.

 

“Well, I don’t really have a job yet so I had to do something to keep myself busy.”

 

“My heavens, Emma, most people take up drawing or knitting or something when they get bored.” He laughed, his emotions overcoming him so that he couldn’t seem to express them.

 

She took his hand in hers again and pulled him, wordlessly, over to the tree.

 

“Gentlemen first.”

 

After a small argument on who should go up first, _(“You might slip and then I won’t be there to break your fall.” “Yeah, cause you know how much better it would be to fall on a person instead of the grass. Just climb, Jones.”_ ) they settled on the platform, so close that their arms brushed against each other.

 

The blanket of stars above them was only part of the beauty as the first firework shot into the air and burst into a myriad of colors.

 

It sent Killian back to a simpler time. Two kids in a tree, messy blonde hair falling in a round face with rosy cheeks. He could see the smiles of innocence now lost due to years of experience, and those fireworks… bursting one after the other in breathtaking colors yet not half as beautiful as the bond being formed amidst them.

 

“Why does this feel so familiar?” He joked.

 

“It’s almost all the same, except for one little thing.”

 

Killian’s eyes widened, curiosity overpowering his good sense.

 

“And what’s that?”

 

There was so much hope in his voice, it was almost sad when she waved the bottle of whiskey in the air.

 

“We’re far over 21 now.”

 

He quickly composed himself, chuckling whilst he nabbed the bottle from her.

 

“Don’t remind me how _far_ _over_ 21 I am else I’ll need this whole bottle for myself.”

 

Another firework shot up into the air, a loud “bang” following its ascent and Killian winced at the sound. It reminded him of another bang he’d heard years before. Though that one was not followed by beautiful bursts of red and blue. No, all that bang left in its wake was death, destruction and in Killian’s case, a broken heart.

 

“Hey, are you alright?”

 

Emma’s hand spread out across his cheek. Heaven help him, he couldn’t resist leaning into her touch.

 

“I’m fine. I just don’t take a fancy to loud noises anymore.”

 

He was hesitant to look her in the eye. Anytime he spoke of the traumatic experience which caused his discharge, people looked on him with pity. He didn’t hold it against them, they didn’t know any better. How could they know that their feeling sorry for him only served to make him feel less of a man than he did already, or that their sorrowful looks were a painful reminder of what he’d lost?

 

Pity was not what he saw on Emma’s face, however. Instead, he saw understanding. He saw that she cared and wanted to be there for him in whatever way he needed. All of that was made known to him without her having to say a word. It was pure evidence that the connection they had could not be broken by time or circumstance.

 

“Remember that time we snuck out after curfew and went on a late-night hike through the woods?”

 

He smiled fondly, remembering the event with perfect clarity.

 

“Aye. What bloody scoundrels the two of us were, Swan.”

 

“True rebels,” She agreed, laughing, “The point is, I was so scared until you told me something that made all that fear go away within seconds… you said that the only way either of us could get hurt was if we were alone.”

 

“Well that was certainly not true. Wild animals don’t care so much about the quantity of prey so long as they get to eat.”

 

She scoffed, shoving his shoulder with hers.

 

“What I’m trying to say is that you’re not alone anymore. And as long as I’m around,” A pause broke up her speech, a serious glance shared between the two before the next words rolled off her tongue, “Nothing is going to hurt you.”

 

Tears threatened to spill, but he kept them at bay. With a whisper of gratitude, he pulled her closer, holding her as tightly as he could without injuring her.

 

There they stayed until the night sky grew dark again and forced them to part ways.

 

As Killian lay in bed that night, his soul was at ease knowing one simple thing.

 

He’d never be alone again.

+++

_August 25 th, 2018_

 

The day felt dreary, darker than all the others already passed. This was not in a literal sense, as it was warm and sunny as any other summer day. The thing which made the Saturday of the 25th so grey was the occasion it marked. Ingrid Swan had passed away on this very date exactly seven years before.

 

Killian wanted desperately to cross the small distance over to Emma’s. He knew that she must feel the pain of this anniversary more than any of the others, being in the very place where it happened. Everything around her was a reminder of her mother. The town, the house, even the people surrounding her. It was like she was being forced to remember all that she didn’t have any more, with no reprieve whatsoever.

 

Still, he did not go over to her. Because Killian of all people knew what it felt like when that dreadful day came around each year. Which meant he also knew that sometimes the best help anyone could give was simply to leave you alone. It pained him, nonetheless, thinking of his Swan in so much pain. He’d do anything in the world for even the possibility of making some of that pain disappear.

 

The day seemed to pass at an abnormally slow rate. Terribly ironic given that usually his Saturdays were gone before he even began to enjoy them. There was something about grief, though… when you are in it, everything around you seems to be in slow-mo. It makes you feel as if you’re running in place, your endpoint just inches in front of you but impossible to reach.

 

He contemplated whether he was doing the right thing keeping his distance as he poured himself a cup of tea. The sun began to go down, the light slowly fading minute by minute until there was none left.

 

Killian had barely moved from his seat the entire day. It was true that he couldn’t be with Emma in person, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t watch over her. He could see the back of her head the entire day. She sat at her kitchen table staring at something that he couldn’t see for almost the whole time. She’d gotten up once or twice, to wash her hands and change clothes but other than that remained still. Never once did he see her face, until finally she got up. He watched as she sauntered out of view, the tenseness in his muscles releasing when her house went dark.

 

The day was finally over.

 

+++

 

Killian sat up in bed, his eyelids heavy as he attempted to open them.

 

The knocks which had woken him up continued loudly and relentlessly.

 

His confusion increased when he looked at his clock. It was 2 in the morning.

 

All the most terrifying possibilities crossed his mind at once, his hand reaching for the first sharp thing he could find on his way out of his bedroom.

 

Of course, if it was a murderer or anything of the like they certainly wouldn’t be knocking on his door before trying to kill him. Such logical thoughts are evidently not on the mind of a half-asleep person in the middle of the night.

 

He crept slowly down the stairs, allowing the unwanted visitor to knock a few more times before leaping forward, simultaneously swinging the door open and holding out his weapon of choice (Which he now disparagingly realized was a toothbrush.)

 

Emma gasped, stumbling backwards a few steps and Killian immediately dropped his tooth-friendly weapon.

 

“Swan? What are you doing here?”

 

She didn’t answer. At least not with words.

 

Stepping into his house, her arms flung around him, her lips crashing to his with surprising force.

 

For just one millisecond, he allowed himself to indulge in the passionate kiss. It was what he’d desired for so long. She’d made the move, she wanted him… He’d no sooner sunk into her embrace than he was stepping away, reality smacking him square in the face.

 

“Emma, stop.”

 

“Why?” In two short strides, she was in his space again, her hand resting over his racing heart, “This is what we both want, right?”

 

Once again, she made an attempt to kiss him. Killian stopped her just before her lips could reach his.

 

“Goodness, Emma, please don’t tempt me. I’m not going to take advantage of the vulnerable state you’re in.”

 

He closed his eyes, his hand going to rub at the bridge of his nose.

 

It wasn’t fair. All he’d wanted since he was 14 was to be with her, now she was right here before him. Single, grown and most importantly, she finally wanted him. It was so close to being perfect, yet it lacked the sincerity he so desired to see.

 

“Fine,” She bit out, “I thought you might want to make me feel better, but apparently you’re deciding to be gentleman now.”

 

“Now?”

 

 “Well, I don’t remember any protests when we were in high school. Do you?”

 

He clenched his jaw, trying to remain patient. She was in pain, it was natural for her to lash out. Even if her words hurt.

 

“I was a stupid, love sick boy then. I can’t change the past, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to repeat it.”

 

She bit her lip to keep it from quivering. It hurt him to his core, seeing her so deeply in pain. There were so many wounds that he wanted to help her repair, if only she would allow him to.

 

Killian waited for her to snap back at him with some bitter remark, but it never came.

 

“I just want it to stop hurting. Why won’t you make it stop hurting?”

 

He barely heard the shaky words, she’d said them so low under her breath. Had it not been for the tears that came streaming down her cheeks, he may have thought he’d imagined it altogether.

 

It was easy to close the space between them. His arms wrapped around her protectively, bringing her head to his chest.

 

If only he knew what a comfort it was to her just to feel the beat of his heart, or the calm that washed over her whenever he was around.

 

“You’re not alone.” Was all he said.

 

He repeated those three comforting words over and over while she sobbed in his arms until her cries turned into steady breathing.

 

She seemed so exhausted, so dejected in every possible way that he couldn’t bring himself to take her home. Like he said, she was not alone. Never would he leave her alone so long as she wanted him there. So, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to his couch.

 

“Stay.” She pleaded when he began to leave.

 

“As you wish.”

 

All night, with her hand in his, he watched over the woman he loved.

+++

_September 25 th, 2018_

 

It had been weeks since Killian had heard anything from Emma.

 

Ever since that night, she avoided him like the plague. He called her, and she wouldn’t pick up, knocked on her door and she wouldn’t answer. He’d even reduced himself to checking his long-abandoned Facebook to see if she’d been dodging everyone or just him. The consensus: it was only him. She’d even gone out with Robin and Regina who had failed to mention said outing to him.

 

He was losing his mind.

 

Yes, he understood that things were awkward. She’d barely said two words to him the morning after her breakdown. All she did was sit across from him silently as she ate the pancakes he’d made her, leaving the second she got the opportunity. Unrealistic as it may be, he’d hoped that they’d finally gotten to a place where she wouldn’t bolt every time things got serious.

 

Ever since Emma had come back around, he’d started drinking less and less until finally he almost never ingested alcohol unless he was out. In place of liquor, now he drank tea. Vastly different drinks with surprisingly similar calming effects. The warm liquid rushed down his throat, counteracting the chill of the oncoming Fall.

 

It was insane, willingly sitting out in the cold like he was. But he felt his only hope of catching Emma was if he was right there when she came home.

 

She’d been elected as the town’s sheriff upon Graham Humbert’s resignation. He was thrilled for her, of course, but it meant she wasn’t around nearly as often.

 

A mix of dread and excitement arose in him when he finally saw the yellow bug roll into the driveway.

 

She looked every bit as authoritative as you’d expect a sheriff to be. Her unruly blonde locks were tied up in a low ponytail which swung back and forth as she stepped out of her car.

 

“Catch any bad guys today, sheriff Swan?

 

A hesitant smile replaced her shocked expression.

 

“It’s Storybrooke. The only bad guys to catch are the raccoons that keep getting into Granny’s trash.”

 

He closed the gap between them, leaning on her shiny yellow Volkswagen with all the swagger he could muster.

 

“What if I told you that I took extra sugar for my coffee this morning without paying for it? Would that be enough for you to cuff me?”

 

 The desired affect showed, bright red, on her cheeks.

 

“That is scandalous, but I have a feeling you didn’t come over here to confess,” Her eyes fell to the ground, her next words coming out in a whisper, “At least not to stolen sugar.”

 

They were so close now that their noses touched. His mind was spinning, thoughts going in all different directions. He admired the tiny specks of gold swimming in her ethereal green eyes, and that pouty curve of her lips that insinuated she was concentrating on something.

 

There were a million things he wanted to tell her, none of which he could manage to articulate.

 

He breathed deeply, desperately hoping the right words would come.

 

“I’m not accusing you of anything, but I must confess that I’m curious as to why you’ve been m.i.a. for the last few weeks. Did I do something to offend you?”

 

“Of course not. I just…” Lines of worry gathered between her brows as she considered what to say, “I just don’t want everything to get messed up, ok?”

 

If he was confused before, he was completely lost now.

 

“Love, what are you talking about?”

 

Her eyes searched his face, apparently dissatisfied at what they found going by the grimace she wore.

 

“Things have been so good between us since I came back. What if we try this and we fail? I don’t want to lose you.”

 

Though she tried to hide it, he could see that familiar uncertainty on her face. That crippling fear of abandonment she’d struggled with since he met her, which kept her so far from his reach.

 

Inwardly, he was screaming. Shouting tirelessly over and over how much he loved her, how he wouldn’t leave her side even if the world depended on it. His soul absolutely _ached_ for the woman before him. But he also knew that woman would flee in a second if he allowed himself to say such things aloud. This thing between them would take time, and his restless soul would learn to be patient if it killed him because no way was he messing it up again.

 

“Emma, I’m going to make you a promise,” His fingers laced with hers, bringing her hand to his lips, “I will wait a day, a week, a whole bloody eternity if that’s the time you need to be ready for me. There is not an obstacle in existence that can keep me from being by your side so long as that’s where you want me to be.”

 

Every word was spoken with unadulterated honesty, the conviction in them as strong as the man speaking them.

 

His bright blue eyes shone with love as he gazed upon the woman he’d spent his life waiting for. There was not a doubt in Emma’s mind that he’d spend another lifetime waiting if that’s what it took. She loved that about him. How unshakingly patient he was with her no matter how many times she turned and ran.

 

“Don’t you ever get tired of waiting on me, Killian?”

 

“My brother always told me that a man who isn’t willing to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets. I’m ready to fight, Swan. If that takes time, so be it.”

 

Her hand fell to his heart, her face lighting up with a sort of childlike joy.

 

She felt like a weight that had been sitting on her heart for her entire life had finally been lifted. All thanks to the stubborn man in front of her.

 

For just a second, her lips were on his in the most tender of kisses. It was not the start of anything, but rather a promise of what was to come.

 

No, she wasn’t ready yet, but Killian would be right there when she was.

Unbeknownst to them, that time would come sooner than expected.

+++

_October 13 th, 2018_

 

As the days went by, Emma and Killian’s relationship began to blossom. They spent more time together, possibly _too_ much time if they went by other people’s opinions. Which they didn’t. To Killian, there was no such thing as too much time with her.

 

The weeks continued as they always did. Their everyday, mundane activities resumed as normal after their moment in Emma’s driveway. It may have been forgotten altogether if Killian hadn’t perfectly memorized the way her lips felt on his, every taste and movement noted with absolute appreciation.

 

By all appearances, Killian Jones and Emma Swan were just good friends. But, when no one was looking, there were longing stares and secret caresses. They’d held hands for the entirety of trivia night without any of their friends noticing.

 

This evening was like all of the others. They’d had dinner together, and now they were comfortably nestled on his couch, a photo album spread out across their laps.

 

Emma’s fingers traced the familiar faces, finally landing on a man with curly hair and the same blue eyes as the man beside her. He looked regal in his military garb, yet there was a peace on his face that Killian’s naval portrait lacked. Like he knew he was right where he needed to be and was completely content with it.

 

“He looks so happy here.” She noted, her eyes still intently fixed on the photo.

 

“Aye, he does. Liam always was more suited to the navy than I… right down to the last breath.”

 

His eyes drifted. He looked completely lost, his mind no longer in the present.

 

Emma’s hand had often rested on his prosthetic as it did now. At first, it made him uncomfortable. It was a symbol of his past that he liked to ignore if given the chance, but eventually he’d learned to relax when her fingers went to trace the hard, wooden hand. There was something in her gaze when she looked at it that made him feel at rest. An acceptance he’d seen in no other who’d taken notice of his disablement.

 

He watched her as she dragged her fingers back and forth across it, amazed at the gentleness with which she always touched him. His insecurities melted away at each brush of her thumb across the prosthetic, knowing that she saw him as a whole man even if no one else did.

 

“What exactly happened?” She asked cautiously.

 

Just as he knew Ingrid was a fragile subject for her, so she knew Liam was for him.

 

People had pushed him for information on his brother’s death more times than he could count. This was different, though. There was no pressure for him to tell her if he didn’t want to. The thing was, he kind of did want to.

 

His brother’s picture stared up at him, that smile he’d seen so many times growing up bright on his face. Then another image of Liam rushed through his mind, one tainted by blood and smoke and the broken last words of a dying man.

 

“It was so stupid… we weren’t even in combat. You should be safe when you’re not in combat, right? That’s what we all thought.”   An involuntary tear slipped from his eye, making a splash on Emma’s hand.      

 

He hated to show such weakness in front of her. One thing Killian had always treasured was his pride. After all, it seemed to be the only thing he had control over.

 

“Anyway,” He started again, “We were practicing the measures taken when disarming a bomb, and next thing we knew it was going off. Turns out the drill conductors thought it would be more effective if we used a live bomb, never mind what might happen if something went wrong.”

 

“Oh, Killian…” Emma’s hand came to rest on his tear-soaked cheek, “That’s so wrong.”

 

There was so much genuine grief in her voice, it astounded him. He knew she cared about him, but it was as if she could feel his pain just as much as if it were her own. Sometimes he forgot how kindred a spirit she really was.

 

Normally, this was where the story ended. It was just too painful to talk about what came next. A lot of things were different with Emma, though.

 

“I was thrown back and a piece of debris landed on my hand, which is why they had to amputate it. But Liam… he was too close when it went off. The shock caused internal bleeding and he passed away right in front of me,” Anger arose in him at the memory, “The worst thing is, they didn’t even pay for him to have a funeral because so many higher-ranking officers were killed too. I didn’t have the money to have one myself, so he never even got a proper good bye.”

 

Tears now flowed freely down his face. Had he been with anyone else, he may have been embarrassed. Not with his Swan.

 

He melted into her embrace, reveling in the way her fingers raked through his hair.

 

“You know what, I don’t think it’s too late for a proper send off. Do you?”

 

A slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

 

“What do you have in mind?”

 

That night, he and Emma went down to the docks and sent a part of Liam into the sea to rest. First went in one of his Naval metals, then a sprinkle of his ashes.

 

They sat at the edge of the water for a long while after, looking up to the starry sky as Killian recalled to her story after story about his brother. Whose soul now got to rest the right way after so many years.

+++

_November 1 st, 2018_

 

“I do hope you’re not holding our last encounter against me, mate.”

 

The blonde sitting across from him feigned indignance, His hands spread dramatically across his chest.

 

“I don’t know. You did leave me to carry all of Emma’s stuff out the truck by myself without even giving me an explanation. Sure, it was 18 years ago, but that is an unforgivable betrayal.”

 

His wife swatted his shoulder disapprovingly. Mary Margret was a petit woman who by all appearances wouldn’t harm a fly. However, he knew from Emma’s stories that she had a big bite when she wanted to, and Killian didn’t doubt it when he saw the scolding look she gave her husband.

 

“Hush, David. You’re a big enough man to forgive an 18-year-old mistake.”

 

He chanced a glance at Emma, who was chuckling behind her napkin.

 

“I know, I know,” David turned to Killian, raising his hands in surrender, “It’s all good, man. To be honest, I didn’t even remember until you brought it up anyway.”

 

A triumphant smile lit up Mary’s face. Something told him the couple had such “disputes” often, though the love they had for each other overshadowed their trivial spats. It was written all over their faces, that love. Even having been married for 14 years, the two looked just as enamored as they did when they were young lovers in high school.

 

Instinctually, he looked over at Emma. The love he felt for her was always there at the back of his mind, but it was times like these when it would come out in full force. He wanted what the couple across from them had. If he had it his way, she’d already have a shiny ring on her finger, and he’d be waking up to her every single day. Just like he’d said, though, she had all the time in the world. If he had to wait until he was 80 to have with her what their companions already shared, that’s exactly what he’d do. That didn’t mean it wasn’t going to kill him.

 

“So, how are you liking your new job, Emma? Storybrooke seems to be properly lawed.”

 

Emma pushed her food around with her fork mindlessly.

 

“It’s great, actually. Slower than I’m used to, but I’m starting to like that.”

 

Shoving a big bite of salad into her mouth, Mary continued her interrogation.

 

“Probably much less stress than being a bail bondsperson… gives you more time for a personal life, I’m sure.”

 

The woman’s eyes went straight to Killian at the mention of “Personal life”.

 

He could feel the heat rushing up his neck and to his ears. Screw his elf ears and their constant betrayal of his feelings. If Emma didn’t constantly go on about how “adorable” they were, he’d wish he didn’t have them at all.

 

Emma didn’t seem to notice her insinuation, or at least didn’t care.

 

“Yeah. I’ve had a lot of time to work on the house, I can’t wait for you guys and the kids to come see it.”

 

Several minutes of silence went by before Mary Margret spoke again.

 

She gave David a serious look, then whispered something in his ear. When she pulled away, both of them were smiling like a pair of schoolgirls. David’s looked a lot more forced than hers, but still, it encouraged suspicion.

 

“Emma, do you want to go get a drink with me? I’m told this place has great appletinis.”

 

Emma looked put off by her friend’s choice of drink. She was a strictly hard liquor girl herself. A quality in her which Killian found excessively attractive.

 

Reluctantly, she agreed to the invitation and the two women vanished into the crowd.

 

Awkward was the first word that came to mind when Killian found himself suddenly alone with David.

 

It wasn’t that he didn’t like the guy. On the contrary, he had a lot of respect for him. It was just one of those dreaded situations where your buffers are taken away and you realize you have no idea how to converse with the person alone.

 

“So, Uhm,” He cleared his throat to buy himself some time, having no idea what to say, “Emma tells me you guys are thinking of moving back.”

 

David nodded.

 

“Yep. We decided this is where our family is meant to be. We’re actually here to look at houses.”

 

A long, painful quiet rested between the men after that. Killian looked all about the room, desperate to see Emma and Mary coming back. They were nowhere to be found.

 

Finally, David broke the silence.

 

“So, are you and Emma a thing or what?”

 

Killian near choked on his drink.

 

“Oh, um, no. Not really.”

 

David looked at him quizzically.

 

“Not really? So, it’s just like… a casual thing?”

 

The redness was no longer constricted to his ears. His entire face looked like it had been set out to bake in the sun.

 

“Heavens no. I’d never take advantage of her like that. She means too much to me.”

 

“So, you _do_ like her.”

 

What was this, the hot seat?

 

He sighed deeply, running his hand down his face.

 

If he didn’t say it now, it was gonna come out eventually. The man was unrelenting.

 

“If you must know, mate, I far more than _like_ Emma. If it was my decision, I’d have her walking down the aisle tomorrow. She, however, is not quite so ready to spend the rest of her life with me yet.”

 

Understanding washed over David’s face. Apparently, it was no mystery to him that Emma had walls. Tall, unbreakable walls. Killian scaled them a little more each day, but he was still a long way from the top.

 

“Emma has had a lot of hurt in her life. It makes it hard for her to trust people.”        Killian dipped his head in shame, knowing he was a fair contributor to that hurt.  “That being said, Mary and I can both see how much she cares about you. I mean, she came to visit us a couple weeks ago and I swear every other word was “Killian”.”

 

The thought of her going on about him made him more giddy than it should have. He was just glad to know it wasn’t just him who couldn’t stop talking about her.

 

“You’ve no idea how badly I want to be with her. I know you probably saw me in a bad light in high school, thought I was a player or something of the like,” He paused, wanting David to know just how genuine his words were, “But I have loved her and only her since the first moment I saw her.”

 

“I’m not going to lie, the fact that you used to hang out with my brother was a little disconcerting.”

 

Killian winced at the mention of his old “friend”.

 

“That was a regrettable friendship.”

 

“Just be glad you weren’t identical twins with the guy,” David groaned, “You have no idea how many people used to run when they saw me just because they thought I was him.”

 

The two shared a laugh. It was short lived, but the first sincere moment of comradery they’d had all evening.

 

“Look, I want you to know that I support this thing between you and Emma. Whatever it is.”

 

Killian was overjoyed to get his blessing. Emma didn’t have a father, but in some strange way David was that figure in her life. To have his approval meant more to Killian than even he realized until now.

 

He was about to reply but was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder.

 

Emma smiled down at him, the sun casting a majestic glow across her face.

 

She truly was an angel.

 

“Hey, can we talk? Outside…”

 

“Sure, love.”

 

He followed her out the door without question. Something was different about her, he just didn’t know what.

 

“So, what did you ladies talk-“

 

A gasp of surprise followed by a contented sigh fell from his lips as Emma pushed him against the wall, her own lips meeting his with force.

 

Putty. That’s all Killian Jones was now.

 

His knees went weak when she pulled back. When he opened his eyes, he saw the biggest smile on her face. The kind that reached all the way to her eyes.

 

“What exactly did Mary Margret say to you?”

 

He felt a little embarrassed at how breathless he sounded. In his defense, it was a surprising and totally arresting kiss.

 

“Doesn’t matter. The important thing is, I’m tired of waiting. We’ve been waiting and waiting and _waiting_ since we were teenagers and I am over it. I want to be with you.”

 

Years and years of built up emotion all came spilling out at once. He kissed her again, pouring all the pent-up passion and love into every movement of his lips over hers.

 

A ten-year-old boy came to mind. Innocent as he unknowingly looked upon his future across the street. Then, he saw a 14-year-old battling with feelings he didn’t quite understand… and a young man giving into selfish impulses in the heat of a moment he’d been waiting for his entire high school career.

 

Finally, he saw her. Right there in the moment with him, smiling so lovingly at him that his heart felt as though it would burst.

 

It was all worth it. Every second of heart ache, every wasted year, all the obstacles they’d had to overcome. It all brought him here.

 

“I love you.” He whispered for only her to hear.

 

His soul was overjoyed to hear the words he’d been waiting on for half his life.

 

“I love you too.”

+++

_July 4 th, 2019_

 

The world became a blur as Killian dipped his bride and kissed her thoroughly.

 

There was a couple of “I do’s”, something along the lines of “You may kiss the bride” and then the room erupted into cheers.

 

Sure, maybe it was a little bit cheesy to have a wedding on the 4th of July. Especially considering they went with the spirit of the holiday, completely decking out town hall with the stars and stripes. They didn’t care what people might have thought. It was on this day 26 years before that they’d started their journey, and now it would be remembered as the day they committed their lives to one another. Not a soul could convince them that wasn’t perfect.

 

Their guests tossed rice into the air as bride and groom walked down the aisle, screaming “Mr. and Mrs. Jones!” and “Kiss the bride again!”.

 

Mrs. Jones. Killian loved the sound of that.

 

The happy newly weds danced with their guests all night, smashed cake in each other’s faces, threw the bouquet and garter to the desperate swarms of singles. The whole nine yards.

 

Not that all that wasn’t fun, but neither could deny how thrilled they were when they were finally able to make their escape.

 

Killian picked her swiftly up off the ground when they’d finally gotten home, kicking the door open like some action movie hero (Ok, it was already part way open. But he still felt cool doing it.)

 

“Home sweet home,” Once over the threshold, he placed her back on her feet, “Does the bride wish to have a nightcap before bed?”

 

He quirked an eyebrow, a dangerous look in his eyes.

 

“Are you kidding? We’ve waited long enough for this, forget the nightcap.”

 

She leapt forward, the two of them collapsing to the couch in a fit of giggles.

 

What was 26 years when they now had forever?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading if any one actually does lol. To think I started this with the intention of making it 5,000 words at most, and it ended up being 28205 words instead! This is a really special story for me, a thousand thanks to anyone who took the time to read it and I apologize for the weird layout (Copy and paste from word sucks) and for any errors that may have slipped by, 67 pages is a lot to edit haha.


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